


The More Things Change

by Goldenbuttons



Series: Changes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenbuttons/pseuds/Goldenbuttons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knew that when Sherlock died, a lot of things would change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fundamental Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the part where I need to say that if you recognise any character, then I don't own them. Everyone you recognise is a creation of either the wonderful ACD or the amazing Steven Moffatt and Mark Gatiss.  
> I made up the people you don't recognise; they are entirely the result of my own imagination. Sadly, I have virtually nothing in common with them; although I do know people who have some of their characteristics, none of them are based on any one person alone.

John knew that when Sherlock died, a lot of things would change. What surprised him was what those changes were.

On that terrible June day, after seeing Sherlock jump fall, being knocked down himself, then held back from his best friend, he had given a statement then gone home to face Mrs Hudson and tell her; telling her was unbearably painful, but not something he could let someone else do. They had sat there at her table until night became morning, drinking seemingly endless cups of tea, each unable to speak more than a couple of words before they choked on them.

Thankfully, Mycroft (or more likely one of his minions) had organised the funeral, John’s only contribution was to travel with Mrs Hudson in the car that was sent for them, and to care for the woman who had surely loved Sherlock as much as any mother could have loved her son. To his surprise, a couple of his ex-girlfriends had actually attended, but they made it abundantly clear that they had no intention of resuming their relationships. They had come out of respect for him, if not for Sherlock, not to try and rekindle the romances which Sherlock had so easily destroyed. 

In the following days, John had been sure he would need to move; there was no way he could afford the rent on his own, and he could not bear the thought of sharing with someone else, some stranger who wouldn’t understand why they needed a skull on the mantle, someone who would even clean up after himself, who wouldn’t be Sherlock. The thought of leaving the only place he had thought of as home since leaving school was a wrench, but it wasn’t fair to expect Mrs Hudson to keep him on for half rent. He half-heartedly scanned the rental pages in the paper, increasingly sure he couldn’t afford to stay in London, and half convinced he didn’t want to. On top of losing his best friend, he was going to lose his home and probably the city he loved.

Then Mycroft had come around, and as much as John wanted to throw him out, he simply couldn’t raise the energy. He sat there and listened in amazement as Mycroft informed him firstly that Sherlock had made a will (who would have thought!), then that he had left everything to John. He placed some paperwork in front of him, and John saw figures that could not possibly be right. As Mycroft rattled on about lump sums and annuities, trust funds and the need for financial advisors, John realised that Sherlock had probably never needed a flatmate. He should have guessed that anyone who dressed like that, spoke like that, exuded so much confidence, must have had more money than John had ever dreamed of. 

With relief, John realised was that he could afford to stay in his home. In the following weeks he came to also realise that working a couple of days a week in a clinic treating middle class woes was not going to bring anything like the adrenaline rush he had been used to. He didn’t need a full time income, but he did need a full time occupation. He sought out some of the homeless people who all seemed to know, and believe in, Sherlock, and found that there were charities in his own neighbourhood that catered to these invisible people all around him. He hooked up with a free clinic, and while most of the illnesses he dealt with were similar to those he was paid to heal, somehow it seemed more worthwhile to do it for those who couldn’t afford to see him otherwise.

As the weeks went on, some of his life returned to a sort of normality. He dropped in on Molly occasionally, although she always seemed a bit awkward. Natural, really; their only link was through Sherlock, and now he wasn’t here, they really didn’t have much in common. Nevertheless, he was a little disappointed-he had supposed that the people who had cared the most about Sherlock would stick together.

Not just with Molly but with all the women he met, it seemed the Watson charm just wasn’t working any more. His romantic failures had nothing to do with a lack of opportunity-everyone he knew seemed determined to introduce him to someone they knew who would be “perfect for you, just the thing to help you get over Sherlock”. After five months, he was totally fed up with his friends’ attempts at matchmaking. 

He had taken to spending Sunday afternoons with Mrs Hudson, they would go to the cemetery, then back to 221A for afternoon tea in her cosy kitchen. Last week, Mrs Hudson had invited a young woman she knew from the Church choir to join them for afternoon tea, and her not so subtle hints had left John a bit mystified-Amy seemed nice enough, but John hadn’t been a church goer since he was 16, and couldn’t sing a note, so with nothing in common conversation had flagged a bit. 

A week ago, Mike Stamford and his wife had invited him for dinner and ‘to make up numbers’ had invited a neighbour, a single mum in her mid 30s, Jenny or Julie, maybe Joanne, something that started with a J. That hadn’t been quite as embarrassing as last month when Harry and her latest girlfriend, Liz, had invited him around to introduce him to Liz’s colleague, David, and after making a heavy handed introduction left them to chat. David was tall with dark hair, interested in film and politics, and possibly the blandest person John could ever remember meeting. The only positive of the night was that John felt that being the only straight person in the room gave him an insight into how Harry must have felt when she first came out and no-one seemed to be on her wave-length. 

John was undecided-was it worse to go on lots of dates that led no-where, mainly because his best friend always needed him somewhere else (and he always went), or to go on dates that led no-where because he had time to realise that he really didn’t want to be there. He had lots of first dates, two or three second dates but no third dates at all.

John had feared that packing up Sherlock’s things would be difficult, and he was right. Originally, he thought that he might give away the clothes to charity, the books and scientific equipment to a school and throw out the rest. In the end, he had packed most of it into boxes and stacked them in Sherlock’s room. Maybe one day he could give them away, but for now, he offered the violin to Mycroft and kept the rest for later. The skull, however, stayed where it had always been - on the mantle – and on his worst days John found it a comfort to let out his feelings without fearing judgement. 

One thing that had continued pretty much as before was his regular night at the pub with Greg. Now that Greg’s divorce was going through, he was a ‘weekend dad’ but during the week he, like John, was usually alone. Having been put on desk duties while all Sherlock’s cases were re-investigated, he didn’t even have the crazy work hours to distract him. The two of them met at the pub most Thursdays and usually had more to drink than they should as they discussed pretty much everything under the sun except the one thing that was really on their mind. Still, even that was about to change a bit, because a few weeks ago Greg had started dating the mum of one of his son Daniel’s school friends. Diane seemed a nice woman and Greg was certainly happier. He was spending most of his spare time with Diane and her boy Simon, but Diane went to Italian classes on Tuesdays, and so Greg and John had decided to swap their night out to Tuesday so Greg and Diane could make Thursday into ‘date night’.

John’s limp had gradually returned, and the knowledge that it was probably psychosomatic was no consolation. Two weeks after Sherlock’s funeral, Mycroft had sent a car for him which had taken him to the first of his weekly appointments with his therapist. Every Monday afternoon found him sitting in her office for a painful, mostly silent hour, as he considered his life.

Yes, as the year drew to a close, John’s life was unrecognisable from what it had been a year earlier.


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday night is pub night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Lestrade's children are a girl named Sophie and a boy named Daniel. It is mere coincidence that these are my great grandparents' names.
> 
> I'm assuming that Sherlock died in mid June 2011. This chapter takes place a bit over five months later in late November 2011.

His night at the pub with Greg was one of John’s favourite things each week. Since they had changed pub nights to Tuesday, they usually found that the pub was quieter and less crowded and with more space and less likelihood of being overheard, they had found it easier to chat about their week.

Tonight, Greg had gone to the bar to get the second round of drinks, when John noticed him chatting with a woman at the bar. A fair bit shorter than Greg with short light brown curls and a trim figure, she and Greg seemed to be in animated conversation. As they took their drinks, they both headed towards John, and he had a moment of dread-the matchmaking from his friends and family over recent weeks had been so heavy handed that he was ready to run a mile the next time someone tried to set him up. To be honest, the matchmaking was starting to worry him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet someone, it just seemed so artificial. And truth be told, he just didn’t feel ready to open up to anyone yet. The loss of his best friend might have been five months ago, but the pain was still raw. So far, Greg hadn’t introduced him to anyone, surely he wasn’t going to ruin their night out by bringing over a third person.

As they reached the table, John automatically stood. Reluctant as he was, his good manners had never deserted him yet. He looked a couple of inches down into a pleasant face, unremarkable except for sparkling blue eyes and a warm smile. He heard Greg introduce them, “Cathy, this is my friend John Watson. John, Cathy Greenwood is a teacher at Sophie’s school”. Cathy took John’s outstretched hand, “Mr Watson, lovely to meet you. Have you known Greg long?” “A couple of years, and you?” She paused in thought for a moment, “I think she has been at our school for a year and a half, hasn’t she?” she asked as she turned to Greg.

John struggled for a moment to think of some appropriate small talk, and asked “Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before”. She laughed a little, “I usually only come in on Fridays or Saturdays, but I’ve had an absolutely foul day today, so I thought I’d see if any of my friends were in tonight, and some of them are there in the corner behind you. I just ran into Greg at the bar.” 

All of a sudden, John felt a little ridiculous for jumping to conclusions; it seemed that he was seeing matchmaking when it was just coincidence. A little small talk wouldn’t do him any harm, so he asked what had been so terrible about her day. “Parent teacher interviews!” she replied. “Not all parents are as easy to deal with as the Lestrades.” She went on to explain that she had asked some parents to come to school as she was a bit concerned about their daughter. “Do you have children Mr Watson?” “John, please. No, I’m not married” She chuckled a little, “Being single and being a parent aren’t mutually exclusive, you know”. “Well, no, but I am single, and I am not a parent”. 

Cathy went on to explain that this afternoon, the mother had seemed a bit subdued but pleasant; the father on the other hand had been overbearing, big-noting himself for the first half of the meeting. “Listening to him, you would swear he was the entire British Government” she said, “and then he tried to chat me up for the rest of the time. In front of his wife!” It had been one of her most irritating meetings for a very long time. When John raised his eyebrows at this, she explained emphatically that “even if he was my type, I simply don’t date married men”. “Well” replied John, “neither of us are married men” (was he seriously flirting with this woman, only minutes after fearing he was being ‘set-up’?) They laughed warmly, “no, you might not be married, but I’m interrupting your conversation, and my friends are over there. It’s been lovely to meet you, but I don’t want to ruin your night”, and with that, she smiled and moved away towards the table in the back corner of the pub. 

John and Greg stayed in the pub for about an hour longer. Just before they left, Cathy and her friends left and she gave a little wave and a smile as she passed them.

As John walked back to 221B, he reflected on his good night out, and it suddenly occurred to him that he might be able to put a stop to the infernal matchmaking. As he entered the flat, he went straight to his laptop and turned on his blog. Then he posted:

The Blog of John H Watson:  
Had a great night at the Red Lion tonight with Greg. Met a nice girl called Cathy. She made me laugh.

Then he logged out, but just before he powered down, he remembered, logged back in and disabled comments. With any luck, his friends might stop trying to set him up, but it wouldn’t work if Greg posted the truth, that even though they had chatted for a few minutes, he hadn’t even got her number.

On Wednesday, John had to work at the homeless free clinic, so after a nice cup of tea he took himself to bed, feeling as though it had been not a bad day at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10.43pm Text Message from: Unknown Number  
'Mycroft, who is this "Cathy"? Is she connected with Moriarty's network? SH'

'Sherlock, my people are investigating. JW and GL were in a corner of the pub, out of the line of sight of the CCTV cameras. GL did meet a woman at the bar. We are checking the cameras outside to see where she went after she left. We WILL find out who she is. MH'

'Mycroft, your most important task is to protect John. It is is essential you find out about her. SH'


	3. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because some things stay the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to go interstate tomorrow on sick-relative duties for two weeks. I will hopefully be able to post more while I am away, but if I don't, I will definitely be back by the 16th September.  
> Please enjoy.

As long as she could remember, Cathy Greenwood had wanted to be a teacher. When she was six, she would come home from school, line up her dolls and stuffed toys in her bedroom and ‘teach’ them whatever she had learned that day. 

Now, a few months after turning thirty, she had a job she loved in a girls’ school a mile or so from her home. Home was a small bedsitter which was big enough (just!) for one person and the occasional dinner guest. When she had been asked to describe it, she would say “a place for everything and everything in its place” but in truth, there was only a place for everything if she was very careful when she went shopping. It really was a very small flat, but to Cathy, it was home. 

She had grown up with her two older brothers, Peter and Mike, and their parents in a large house in Manchester, but since her dad had retired, the house had been sold and her parents had moved to Torquay. Their house there was lovely, but it didn’t hold any memories, so the only thing that meant home was her little flat.

Wednesday was the busiest day of Cathy’s week; a free period just before lunch, but otherwise a full class load. A couple of days a week Cathy would go to the gym after work which helped let off steam, but her knitting group met on Wednesday, and she hated to miss it, no matter how mentally tired she was. Partly it was because they were a great group of girls and the time passed so quickly with them, but also because it was the only time she could be sure to indulge in her long-time hobby.

This week, she was still mulling over the problem of Isabel Judge and her less than pleasant parents. Well, the mother was fine, but the father, ugh. Still, no time to mull over it, Isabel was in her class after lunch. She seemed fine, but teenaged girls were always having dramas. Hopefully there was nothing to it, she really didn’t want another meeting with Mr Judge.  
At the end of the day, she had just packed her bag for the walk home when she got a call in the staff room from the office.

“Cathy, could you come to the head mistress’s office please”  
“Why, is there a problem?” 

“No problem, can you just come down before you leave” and they hung up. Intrigued, and a little annoyed, Cathy made her way to the head’s office, knocked and entered. 

Expecting to see the head mistress, she was surprised to see instead a man in a smart suit. Tall, thin, with a sharp pointed nose, and an expression of disdain as she entered the room. Flustered, she went to leave, until he said 

“Ah, Miss Greenwood, please, come in, take a seat”. Clearly, she was expected. Cathy carefully took a seat in front of the desk and waited.

“Miss Greenwood”, he continued, “what can you tell me about Dr Watson?” Cathy started, mentally running through the names of her students, none of them were called Watson, her own Doctor’s name was Clarke,

“Um, nothing, I don’t know a Dr Watson, you must be mistaken.” 

The man looked down at his notebook and read out “Dr John Watson, you met him last night at the”, and here he paused and with the look of someone finding something unpleasant on his hand made Italian shoes, “Red Lion public house. Do you deny you met Dr Watson last night?” 

Of course, “No, I did meet a John Watson last night, but I didn’t know he was a doctor”. 

The man continued “I have an interest in Dr Watson’s well-being, and I do like to know the people he meets. Do you plan to see Dr Watson again?” By now, Cathy was annoyed, the presumption of this man, what business was it of his? John Watson had seemed nice enough, but maybe this was his jealous boyfriend. Or maybe just a crazy stalker. 

She carefully replied “I may be wrong, but I really don’t think that’s any of your business”. To her surprise, the man suddenly started to laugh, 

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing”, the man replied, “nothing is funny, but maybe you and Dr Watson are better suited than I had thought. The first time I met him he said the exact same thing.” 

“Obviously he didn’t make his point clearly enough then, because you’re still interfering in things that aren’t your business”.

With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, the man replied “As I said, I am concerned for Dr Watson’s well-being. If you plan to see Dr Watson again, I would be prepared to make a substantial contribution in return for...”

“No. Whatever you are asking for, the answer is no”. Well, thought Cathy, I think we can rule out a jealous boyfriend.

“I’m merely after a little information and ..”

“And the answer is still no!”

“The more I speak with you, the more you seem to have in common with Dr Watson. However, I am sorry to have detained you, can I offer you a ride home?”

“No, it isn’t far and I enjoy the walk home”.

She stood and moved towards the door, “Are we finished?” 

“Of course, Miss Greenwood, I am sorry if I have disturbed you. Please, let me make it up to you. Do you enjoy rugby?” Puzzled, Cathy nodded, she had an ex-boyfriend at university who played rugby and she had always enjoyed the game. 

“Here” said the man, “I find myself with a ticket for the six-nations game next week but I am unable to attend, would you like to go to Twickenham? No strings attached.” Cathy hesitated but only for a moment. This man was a bit creepy, but he wouldn’t actually be at the game, and it could be fun. She turned and nodded, the man reached into his suit jacket and drew out a ticket to the England v France game in ten days.

As she left school to walk home, it occurred to her that this mystery man could be dangerous. John Watson had seemed nice in the couple of minutes he had spent with him, but even if he wasn’t nice at all, she didn’t like to think of anyone being in danger. She made a mental note to look up a number for Sophie Lestrade’s father in the morning, then to ring him with a message for his friend.

Now she would need to hurry to get home, grab some dinner and get to knitting group. Should she tell the girls about the mystery man of this afternoon? Maybe not, there was something a little off about the whole thing, but she wasn’t sure she could explain it properly to her friends. She couldn’t really explain it to herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10.23pm Text message from: Unknown number  
'Well? SH'

'Sherlock, her name is Catherine Greenwood, she teaches Sophie Lestrade. She seems trustworthy, but my staff are investigating further. Despite my best efforts, she seems to dislike me. MH'

'Really? I like her already. SH'


	4. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from Mycroft is enough to ruin anyone's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16th Sept: I have revised chapters 2 and 3 by adding a paragraph or so to each of them. If you have already read them, re-reading the previous two chapters, or at least the last paragraph of each, would be helpful.  
> Now I am back home with proper broadband internet instead of painfully slow dial-up, I hope to post the following chapters soon.

Cathy slept badly, and by 5.30am had abandoned all hope of getting back to sleep. She showered, dressed, ate and was at school by 7am, where she logged on to the school’s data base. By 7.05am, as she was dialling Greg Lestrade’s number it occurred to her that maybe she should wait until later, but before she could hang up, Greg answered her call.

“ Greg, it’s Cathy Greenwood, I’m sorry to ring so early. Can you talk?”

“Sure Cathy, is there a problem, is Sophie OK?”

“Sophie, oh no, it’s nothing to do with Sophie. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s about your friend John Watson, you introduced us on Tuesday.”

“John, yes, he’s a good mate. And you seemed to make a good impression. Do you want his number or something?” 

“What, no, nothing like that. It’s just that I think he has a stalker. Can you warn him?”

“Slow down, what do you mean, a stalker?”

Cathy explained about her mystery visitor from the previous afternoon, how she had thought maybe he was a jealous boyfriend, but that when he suggested she date John, she had settled on a stalker. She described the man as best she could, and asked Greg to warn John that he might be in danger. 

“Is that being melodramatic? I don’t mean to be, but he just scared me a bit. I don’t really know what John Watson is like, but I don’t like the thought of him being harassed by someone.”

“It’s PROBABLY fine, but it could be something to do with Sherlock, so it’s just as well that we check it out.”

“Sherlock? Who or what is a Sherlock?”

“Who or what is just about right. Sherlock Holmes, have you heard of him?”

“The name is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Well, Sherlock Holmes was John Watson’s best friend. He was a detective, consulted with the police. Accusations were made that he was solving crimes because he was involved in committing them.”

“Wha.. , hang on a minute, was he that ‘Fraud detective’ in the papers earlier this year?”

“That’s the one, and when he died, well killed himself really, in June, the press assumed that it was because he was guilty, but since then all his cases are being re-investigated, and so far they look totally legit. Plus we have a recording which seems to prove that he was being threatened that if he didn’t kill himself, all his friends would die. He didn’t have a lot of friends, but they would all be killed.”

“That’s awful, the poor man, what a terrible choice to have to make. So you think this stalker might be connected with this threat?”

“Maybe, I’ll talk to John and warn him to be careful.”

“Thanks, that is a real weight off my mind. By the way, this man gave me a ticket to the six-nations rugby next week. I’d like to go to the game, but not if there is something ‘off’ about it. Do you think it will be OK?”

“I’m sure that it would be fine. I can’t see how a ticket to the rugby could compromise you in any way. Go, enjoy it. I’ll ring John now and warn him about his stalker”

Cathy hung up the phone, feeling relieved and yet intrigued. She could vaguely recall reading about this Sherlock Holmes, but hadn’t really taken a lot of notice. It was towards the end of the academic year, and she had been involved in exam marking, reports and parent-teacher interviews. At that time of year, teachers seemed to have no time for anything else. As she still had well over an hour and a half before her first class for the day, she decided to google ‘Sherlock Holmes’, and for the next 90 minutes, she read article after article on the mysterious detective. Apart from reading about him, she found his own website, and from that a link to John Watson’s blog. It seemed a bit intrusive, almost like she was stalking him too, but she jotted down the address, and thought of looking at it later. Maybe.

Meantime, Greg hung up from Cathy’s call and immediately rang John. As he recounted Cathy’s tale, Greg could sense John’s increasing agitation, but when he described the man himself, he was taken aback by the reaction.

“Bloody Mycroft, I’ll kill him! Where does he get off, harassing people just because I met her once. How did he even find her, that wouldn’t have been easy! Look, thanks Greg, if you talk to Cathy again, can you thank her too, I’ll deal with it.”

With that, John rang the number he had saved but really hoped to never use. Within five minutes, John was confident that Mycroft did understand that he had stepped over a line he really shouldn’t have crossed. Would he do it again, quite probably, but at least he knew that John was very unhappy. Very!

Thursday was one of John’s free clinic days, so after blowing off steam at Mycroft, John went to work, and spent a full day fixing broken people. He wasn’t totally surprised when, as he emerged from the clinic at the end of the day, a limousine pulled up in front of him, the driver opened the door and gestured for him to get in. With still a remnant of his anger from the morning, John squared his shoulders and got in the car. Whatever Mycroft wanted, John was ready for him!

What John was not ready for was a humble and apologetic Mycroft Holmes. This was a totally new side to Mycroft that John had never seen; Sherlock had certainly never mentioned the possibility of Mycroft apologising for anything. Ever. Yet, here he was, Mycroft Holmes, apologising. To him, John Watson. 

“John, I am so sorry, I realise that I have probably behaved badly, but as you know, I have always felt so protective ...” his voice trailled off. 

“Protective, of what. Or whom? In a way, I could understand your attitude while Sherlock was alive-you wanted to protect him from his enemies, but in the end, it didn’t matter, did it, he died, and your interference in my life should have died with him.”

“John, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. “

“No, you’re right, it won’t happen again. EVER! Now, I need to go to Tescos on my way home. Your driver brought me here, he can take me there and then take my shopping and me home. He can, can’t he?” When John spoke with his military voice, Mycroft had no doubt that the troops under him would have obeyed instantly. He nodded his assent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10.17pm Text message from: unknown number

“Mycroft, have you completed the check on Cathy? Is John in danger from her? SH”

“Sherlock, I am quite certain that she is absolutely no danger to John. MH”

“Will she be seeing him again? SH”

“That is possible. I will possibly be interfering just once more in John’s life. MH”

“You, just once more? Not likely that you would stop the habit of a lifetime. SH”


	5. Twickenham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's is being all mysterious and James Bondish.

Following the whirl of activity over the past three days, Cathy found the next week almost an anti-climax. 

She went to the gym a few times, and on Friday she went to the pub with her friends, the band was good and loud, but she was home before 10.30pm. Maybe she was getting old! 

On Saturday she finished her Christmas shopping. She bought the wool to make a Dr Who inspired hat for her brother Mike, and still had to finish a shawl she was making for Mike’s girlfriend Emma, but apart from that, she just had to wrap her gifts and everything would be ready for her Christmas break in Torquay with her family. 

John’s week was much the same as usual. On Sunday he took Mrs Hudson to the cemetery and shared afternoon tea. He had to remember to make his excuses as to why he was still free to spend Sunday with her, having implied that he now had a new relationship. On Monday he saw his therapist, and on Tuesday he went to the pub with Greg again. He filled Greg in on the details of his “stalker”; Greg seemed relieved, but not sympathetic.

“Well, mate, you shouldn’t have implied you’d met someone. Should have known that Sherlock’s brother wouldn’t be able to leave it alone.” 

Knowing that it was his own fault was not helping! When Greg offered to give him Cathy’s number, John hesitated, but took the number, with a vague suggestion that he might ring to apologise. Hopefully she wouldn’t think that John was a stalker too.

On Friday when he got home, Mrs Hudson asked him to come in to change a lightbulb for her, then somewhat awkwardly asked if John would like a ticket to the rugby for the following night. Something about her godson buying a ticket but now he couldn’t use it. She seemed quite flustered, but John didn’t like to push her. After all, he really did like rugby, and it wasn’t as if he had a social life.

Saturday night saw John arriving in the members’ stand at Twickenham. Mrs Hudson’s godson had come through with a great ticket. As he approached his seat, the woman in the next seat looked familiar. She looked up and smiled, and yes, it really was...

”Mycroft!” he muttered under his breath. “Hello, I didn’t expect to see you here”.

“Well” replied Cathy, “I didn’t expect to see you. I suppose I should have expected it, seeing as your stalker gave me my ticket. He really is quite persistent” 

“My stalker? He gave you your ticket?” 

“Well, he said he had a ticket and couldn’t use it. I like rugby, and Greg seemed to think it would be OK” 

“Greg. You mean that Greg knew you were coming here? He never said” 

“He probably didn’t think it mattered. He seemed more concerned about whether your stalker was going to do you harm, something to do with your friend Sherlock?”

“Yes, he was definitely something to do with Sherlock. Did Greg tell you anything about him?” She nodded. “Well, Sherlock’s brother was always trying to interfere with his life, and once I became his best friend, that interference extended to me. Once Sherlock died, I thought he would leave me alone, but it seems that he wants to check out everyone and anyone I meet. I can only apologise for subjecting you to that. It was good of you to contact Greg, just in case. I mean, he might have actually been dangerous, instead of just a nuisance”

“Not too much of a nuisance if he got both of us tickets to the six-nations. Does he enjoy being all mysterious and acting all James-Bondish? Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give you two tickets and let you ask someone yourself?”

With 45 minutes or so until kick-off, John suggested that they grab a drink at the bar, and they fell into easy conversation. By the time the teams were on the pitch, John realised that he had spent well over half an hour talking about his friendship with Sherlock, in a way that he hadn’t managed in the past six months. Even though John worried that he might be boring, Cathy seemed to be still interested in learning more about the genius and their friendship. 

Just as they were about to stand up and return to their seats, Cathy grabbed at his arm and whispered urgently 

“John, can you pretend to be my boyfriend for the next five minutes? Please.” 

He nodded, as a man came up to them, dressed in a cheap suit but with an overwhelming air of self-importance.

“Miss Greenwood, I didn’t know you were a rugby fan” he gushed. “Can I buy you a drink? Something to eat during the game?”

“No thank you Mr Judge. My boyfriend and I are just going to our seats now.”

“Your boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend”

“Well Mr Judge, there is absolutely no reason you should. Our relationship, yours and mine, is only as the teacher and parent of Isabel, and our discussions never venture into our social lives, do they?” Trying to discourage the man without being blatantly rude was not easy.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” He turned towards John. “Charles Judge. This lovely lady teaches my daughter Isabel”

“John Watson, Isabel must be a lucky girl.”

“Mr Judge” said Cathy, “John and I are keen to see the game. You really will need to excuse us.” And with that, Cathy took John by the arm and started to walk away.

The game was exciting, and there was no chance to chat until half time.

“Now Cathy, are you going to explain that to me?” and as requested, Cathy proceeded to explain that this was the student’s father who had tried to chat her up the previous week when she was so annoyed, the day they met. 

John chuckled, “you really don’t like him, do you? I understand why. He really is quite obtuse, isn’t he? Won’t take no for an answer. Obviously thinks he’s irresistible, which makes one person who thinks it”

As their seats were getting cold, they decided to go into the bar for another drink and stayed there to chat during the second half. By full time, John had decided that he actually did want to see this girl again, not just to put off his match-making friends, but for real. He couldn’t remember the last time it had been so easy to chat to someone. She might not be “The One” but she was good company, and John could imagine them becoming friends. Quite apart from anything else, she seemed to think it was fine for him to talk about Sherlock and their adventures. From time to time she asked questions, but most of the time she just listened with a gentle smile on her face.

“Are you busy tomorrow? I have to take my landlady to the cemetery and then have afternoon tea, but maybe we could have lunch. Or watch some videos. Do you like The Doctor?” 

“Of course the doctor. Ten is my favourite, which one is yours?”

“I’m getting fond of Eleven, but yes, I think Ten is best. What if we have lunch together, you could come with Mrs Hudson and me if you like, maybe stay in the cab if you prefer. Then we could have afternoon tea then watch some videos after. Would that be OK?” Cathy nodded. “The only thing is, I would need you to pretend to be my girlfriend-Mrs Hudson thinks I’m already seeing someone.”

“It seems to me that sometimes we tell people these things, it’s the easiest way to get some privacy, isn’t it. Is that why you told her?” John chuckled a little as he nodded.

“Now, would you like to share a cab, and we can work out details for tomorrow?” 

“A cab, well I was planning to walk to the station with the crowd and then catch a train home. Cabs are a bit out of my price range.”

“Nonsense, it's too difficult for me to catch the train in case I can't get a seat, so I’m catching a cab, you don’t live that far from me do you? I live just a block from the pub; I assume you live nearby too? And then we can work out our plans for tomorrow”

So, to her surprise, instead of being jostled on the train, Cathy found herself travelling home in some comfort. It seemed that John lived only a few blocks from her place, and on the way they exchanged phone numbers and addresses. (John never mentioned that Greg had already given him her number. On reflection, that really did seem like stalking.) They arranged that he would come to her place about midday and, yes, they both liked Italian food. Then the cemetery, afternoon tea and a Who marathon.

On Sunday morning, Cathy slept in until about 10am, then after toast and tea stood in front of her wardrobe for seemingly ages while trying to work out the right outfit. It was a long time since she had cared so much about what she wore. Finally, she settled on comfort-her newest pair of trousers, flat boots, a lightweight jumper, warm jacket, hand knitted gloves, hat and scarf. She packed up her knitting bag and was ready when John rang the bell to her flat at a minute to midday.

Angelo’s really was only a block from Cathy’s place; she had been there once before, but when they arrived it was clear that John was a regular. As they were shown to their table, John explained that Sherlock had helped Angelo when he was in strife years before. That must explain the amazing service, the flowers on the table, Cathy felt as if she was with royalty.

After lunch, they walked the two blocks to Baker St, and Cathy was introduced to Mrs Hudson. Fortunately she remembered that she was supposed to be John’s girlfriend, and Mrs Hudson didn’t seem to notice when she made a couple of mistakes. At the cemetery Cathy waited a distance from Sherlock’s grave, giving John and Mrs Hudson some privacy to mourn their friend.

After they shared afternoon tea, John and Cathy went upstairs and Cathy saw 221b for the first time.

John offered tea, coffee, biscuits, but Mrs Hudson had just fed them well, so Cathy asked for some water and then settled down with her knitting to watch the Doctor. 

“Knitting? You can knit while you watch TV? Isn’t that awfully hard?”

“ Um ,no, I usually knit while I watch TV, or listen to music, or pretty much anything really. It keeps me relaxed.”

“Oh, my mum used to knit but she couldn’t watch TV while she did it. She hated being distracted. Actually,now I think about it, she probably just wanted an excuse to turn the TV off and have some quiet” 

After a couple of hours, John suggested they have some soup and toast and tea before they watched the next episode. Cathy was happy to stand and stretch, and walk around the sitting room, looking at the things on the wall, glancing out the window, and joining John in the kitchen to help with the tea.

By the time they had watched two more episodes, Emma’s shawl was finished, and Cathy hadn’t brought the pattern or wool for Mike’s hat with her, so she packed away her knitting and started making moves to leave. She didn’t want to impose on John for too long. To her surprise, it was already 8pm, and they had been together since midday. John insisted on walking her home, and on the way suggested dinner tomorrow. “Italian if you like, but there’s an excellent Chinese down the street which I like too.” 

“Chinese might be best, otherwise Sherlock’s friends at Angelo's will all jump to conclusions. After meeting your stalker it might be best to not give that impression.“

As she got ready for bed that night, Cathy wondered where her weekend had gone. A little shopping, but apart from that, it just seemed like all she had done was spend time with John Watson. To her surprise, that didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. Much to her mother’s chagrin, Cathy wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. She had a good social life with lots of friends, but no-one special. She couldn’t help but wonder if John Watson might actually become special; she liked him, and it would certainly make her mother happy if she did find someone. And a doctor, well that would be the icing on mum’s cake. Maybe, let’s take things slowly, see how it works out.

The Blog of John H Watson:  
What a great weekend, six nations rugby with Cathy on Saturday, then lunch at Angelo’s, afternoon tea with Mrs Hudson and a Who marathon. What a woman!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~10.17pm Text Message from: unknown number

“Mycroft, are you sure this Cathy is safe? John seems to be spending a lot of time with her. SH”

“Sherlock, all the checks indicate that she really is exactly what she seems. John has laughed more this weekend than in the past five months. MH”

“If you are wrong, the price could be far too high. Check her again. Just to be sure. SH”


	6. NSY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting serious, in so many ways

John didn’t work on Monday; he had an appointment each week at 2pm with his therapist, so he did his housework on Monday morning, did his washing and his shopping and shared elevenses with Mrs Hudson. He needed an unthinking morning to get through the session with his therapist, and by taking the time to walk to and from his appointment the whole day was full.

From early morning, this Monday, however, was proving to be more stressful than normal. He was half way through breakfast when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID –Harry, this might not be good. 

“John, just who is this girl you’re seeing? Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Harry, great to talk to you too, I’m fine thanks, nice of you to ask.”

“What? Oh, yes, hi, how are you? Now who on earth is this girl?”

“Woman, Harry, Cathy’s a woman, not a girl. I don’t go out with girls, I go out with women.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look, six months ago you were madly in love with Sherlock Holmes, now you fancy some ‘woman’, you can’t just change like that. Are you just doing this as a reaction, going for someone totally opposite to Sherlock?”

“Harry, how many times do I have to tell you, I was NOT ‘in love’ with Sherlock. He was my best friend, we were mates, yes I was devastated when he died, but that was because not only did my best friend die, I saw it happen and couldn’t stop it. I’m straight, I’ve always been straight and as far as I can tell, I always will be straight. I used to go out with women while I lived with Sherlock, and I’m starting to go out with women again now that I’m living alone. Surely you can distinguish between my best friend and my lovers-different people, different genders.”

“So the sex is great, is it? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not what I said. I haven’t slept with her, for all I know, I might never sleep with her, we’ve just gone on a few dates, I like her, she makes me laugh. How about you just let things go for a while and we will see how it goes.”

“So, it’s Christmas in three weeks, are you bringing her to Christmas lunch with Liz and me? Are you going to her family? When am I going to meet her?”

“Harry, maybe you’ll meet her. Maybe. I have no idea what we’re doing for Christmas. Her parent’s don’t live in London, so I guess she will be going to their place for a few days. We haven’t talked about it. We’re not at that stage yet. By the way, is there anything you and Liz would like for Christmas? I’ll be doing my shopping this week.” Maybe, just maybe, she would let him change the subject. 

It worked. A bit. For the next few minutes they discussed Christmas wish lists, but as she rang off, Harry reminded him “I expect to meet this ‘woman’, if you’re going to get serious. I don’t want to see my little brother’s heart broken again.”

John threw himself into cleaning the flat, then while his washing ran through, he went downstairs to see Mrs Hudson only for her to also give him the third degree.

“John, I did like Cathy, she seems quite lovely, but are you sure you’re ready to get serious with someone”

“Well, we’re not really serious yet. I haven’t even kissed her yet.”

“John Watson, you haven’t kissed her, why on earth not? She at least deserves that.” 

OK, that was a turnaround, don’t get too serious, but get more serious at the same time. John explained that he was taking Cathy out again tonight for Chinese and he was fairly certain he would kiss her tonight. Well, he would try to, anyway.

After they had finished their tea, John set off for the shops where he bought everything he needed and then added a couple of bunches of flowers to his trolley load. When he got home he hunted around for a vase, before giving up and asking Mrs Hudson to borrow two; one to stay in the sitting room, one for the kitchen to keep Cathy’s flowers fresh until tonight. He made a mental note to buy flowers for Mrs Hudson when he returned the vases.

When he set off for his therapist John felt almost light-hearted. He was still limping a bit, not yet ready to abandon his walking stick, but he felt that if he lost the stick he would survive. At least for a day. And then his therapist, obviously she had read his blog too, because the first thing she wanted to know was if he was rushing things with this new person in his life. What was it with people? A month ago everyone he knew was trying to match him with their friends, now he had met someone they were all telling him to back off. 

At 7pm, he stood outside Cathy’s flat with a bunch of flowers in his hand. When she asked him in, so she could put them in a vase, he wasn’t surprised that she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. He half turned, put his arms around her and kissed her back, with enthusiasm. In fact, he was a bit surprised by just how good it felt, how natural it felt to gently press his lips to hers. After a few seconds, he drew back and looked at her face-she looked happy, she certainly didn’t look as if she thought they had made a mistake. 

“Um, that...” “I think ...” They both stopped, giggled and waited for the other to start speaking. Eventually John said “That was, um, rather nice. Maybe we should do it again.” So they did. But after a few moments, they drew apart and Cathy suggested that they really did need to go to dinner before they got totally distracted. They walked arm in arm to the restaurant, it felt comfortable. 

Once they were shown to their table, they chose to sit next to each other, rather than across the table from one another. Once they had ordered, John took a deep breath and 

“Cathy, I think I want to keep seeing you. I haven’t been serious about anyone for ages, but I like being with you, and I want to spend more time with you. What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

Cathy blushed a little, and grabbed her organiser from her handbag. “Well, I’m enjoying seeing you too, I think that sounds like a great idea.” 

“Tomorrow. I’m meeting Greg at 7.30. I’m free every other night.”

“Tomorrow, I was planning to go to the gym-I haven’t been since Thursday and I’m feeling sluggish. Wednesday I have knitting group, Thursday I want to go to the gym, but I can do that right after school so I’m free in the evening, Friday I usually meet friends at the pub, but I haven’t told them I’ll be there-they won’t be worried if I don’t turn up”

“OK, what about we meet tomorrow after school for coffee, then Wednesday, you’re at knitting group?” “Yes, it‘s the one thing I never miss. But we could do coffee after school again. If you’re free”

By the time their meals had arrived, they had decided to meet for coffee at 4pm on Tuesday and Wednesday, and Cathy had persuaded John that she would love to cook for him on Thursday. Their organisers were filled with the times they would meet for the rest of the week. They enjoyed their meal, occasionally trying one another’s food, and walked hand in hand back to Cathy’s place afterwards. 

Cathy asked John in for a nightcap, but John stayed only for a few minutes. “If I don’t go now, I might end up begging to stay all night. I don’t plan to rush things, not yet. I’d better go.”

Tuesday was a busy day for both of them, but they both focussed on their coffee date. At 4pm, Cathy arrived at 221b, and they walked together to Speedy’s to get their coffee and check out the cake stand. They both had other things to do that night, but they had at least an hour or two together before they had to go their separate ways. Just as they sat down, John’s phone chimed with an incoming message.

Text Message: from Greg Lestrade.

“John, can you bring over Sherlock’s notes on the Chinese Smuggling case. The investigating team need to check his paperwork on the deaths of the two smugglers, and why he thought they were murders, not suicides.”

“No problems, when do you need them?”

“asap. Now?”

John frowned, and then asked Cathy if she would like to come to New Scotland Yard, see Greg, meet some of his and Sherlock’s friends and see for herself the place where so many of the cases had played out. She was on her feet in a moment, they went up to the flat, retrieved the files and headed for Scotland Yard.

John explained that Greg hadn’t been involved in the case they were investigating, but all of Sherlock’s cases were being investigated, and for the team that was checking the cases, Greg was their liaison with John for everything.

They made their way to the investigating office. John hadn’t been to this floor often, but as he walked in, he saw a familiar face. 

“Sally, hello.” 

“Oh, what are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too Sally. Cathy, this is Sergeant Sally Donovan, Sally, my friend Cathy Greenwood”

“It’s acting Inspector actually. I suppose it’s just as well for you the freak is dead”

“What!” 

“Well, there is no way the freak would let you hang around with a woman, he always wanted his pet to pay total attention to him and only him”

“I beg your pardon” said Cathy, “exactly what do you mean?”

“The freak, Sherlock Holmes, he and his pet, your boyfriend, they were always together, you never saw one without the other. The freak was completely besotted.”

Any of her students would have been worried by the hard expression on Cathy’s face, but Sally Donovan had no idea what it meant. “They were completely gay for each other”

All of a sudden, Cathy turned away and said, very quietly, “Greg, could I have a word? In private.”

Too late, Sally seemed to suspect that maybe she had gone a step too far, but by then Cathy and Greg had stepped into a corner office, and Greg was being subjected to Miss Greenwood in full flight. 

“Greg, I intend to lodge an official complaint against that woman. It is totally unacceptable for her to refer to anyone as a freak or as a freak’s pet. She is at least implying that Sherlock was a freak because he was gay and that somehow this justifies her insults. Can you imagine how a young gay person would feel reporting a hate crime to Sally Donovan? She is completely out of line! If a child at my school spoke like that about someone, the first time they would be told to not do it again, the second time they would be on detention and the third time suspension.” 

“And the fourth?” asked Greg. 

“There wouldn’t be a fourth” replied Cathy firmly. “There is simply no place in 21st century society, yet alone the police force, for this sort of attitude. I’m lodging an official complaint.”

“Well, it might be difficult, since Sherlock’s death she has been the golden child of some of senior management”

“Really? I think if her language and attitude become public knowledge, senior management might not think she is quite so golden. It’s crazy really, I would think that even now, it would be more difficult for a woman, and a black woman at that, to rise in the ranks of the police force. I would have hoped that would give her more empathy for others. Clearly not! Now, is there an established complaints procedure, some forms I need to fill in, or someone I need to see?”

By the time they walked out of NSY, it was well after 6pm, an official complaint had been lodged and statements had been made by everyone who had been present when John and Cathy arrived. An investigation team had been assigned and Sally Donovan was suspended on full pay. Greg and John were ready for pub night and Cathy had decided that she would take that boxing class on offer at the gym.

The blog of John H Watson  
Wow! I am amazed by Cathy, lots of people complain when they are unhappy about something, she does something about it. Glad she’s not unhappy with me.


	7. Dating?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cathy thinks it is quite possible John will never want to see her again.

When she checked her phone at lunch time on Wednesday, Cathy had three messages, one from an Inspector Leahy at New Scotland Yard (could you please ring me when you are available), one from John (can you give me a call as soon as you’re free), and one from Greg (can you ring me as soon as possible).

She decided to ring John first-if he didn’t want to see her ever again, well she would prefer to know sooner rather than later. To her pleasant surprise, he just wanted to check that she was OK, and to confirm that she would be able to meet him at 4pm as arranged.

Greg was a bit less pleasant. Was she sure that she wanted to proceed with the case against Sally Donovan, Greg was sure it was just a joke. “But it wasn’t funny Greg. It was highly offensive, and I was highly offended. Greg, as I said to you yesterday, I can only imagine how horrifying it would be for a young gay person to be confronted by a Sally Donovan in full flight.” She hesitated, then proceeded, “Have you ever known a young gay person who killed themselves? One of my friends from uni taught a boy who did. He’d been called a freak by his so-called friends, he felt worthless, he thought the world would be better without him. Words wound, Greg. Are you certain that her words didn’t contribute to Sherlock’s death? At the very least she needs to learn not to use words as a weapon. I’m not sure she understands that.“ Greg seemed subdued by her outburst, but conceded that maybe Sally’s words were inappropriate, maybe he in fact should have stopped it himself a long time ago.

Then she rang Inspector Leahy. Inspector Elizabeth Leahy would be leading the investigation into Cathy’s complaint. Could they meet, perhaps this afternoon? Cathy explained that she was meeting a friend at 4 pm, a friend who would possibly be one of the witnesses called in the matter. Did she want to meet them at the friend’s home? When the inspector said that she would like that, Cathy suggested that she would check with John and ring back in five minutes or so. She checked with John, and rang the inspector to tell her to come to 221b Baker St at 4.30 that afternoon.

Cathy went straight from school to Baker St, arriving a few minutes before John, but was happy to wait outside until he arrived. They went upstairs and John hugged her, kissed both cheeks and told her how proud he was. Relieved, Cathy explained that she had been a bit worried that her somewhat aggressive attitude to Sally might have put him off. 

“No” explained John, “it’s the sort of courage I wish I had shown the first time I met her. She has done it for so long, I’m sure she doesn’t even notice doing it.” 

“Well, this inspector will be here in half an hour, time for a cuppa, a kiss, a hug, probably that’s about it. Um, look I hate to ask this, but I think I need to, what Sally said, about you and Sherlock being gay for each other...” her voice trailed off.

“No, nothing like that, never. I’m straight, totally straight. Never gay, never even curious. I like women. When I dream about spending my life with someone, it’s always a woman. Sherlock on the other hand, I don’t think was interested at all, men or women. Asexual, I think. Maybe Sally would think that it made him a freak, but really, he just never seemed interested. He was driven by his mind, not his emotions and definitely not by his hormones. It sometimes made life difficult, because he didn’t understand why sometimes I wanted to go on a date instead of tracking down a murderer, or helping him with an experiment. He was my best friend, and he once said that I was his only friend, but romance, sex, no, never. Not between us. He might have had a sex life, but if he did, I didn’t know about it, and no-one came forward after to say that they, you know...”

Cathy let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, then headed for the kitchen, looking around for the kettle and the mugs. “Come on you, let’s make some tea.”

At 4.30 precisely, Elizabeth Leahy rang the bell, and John let her in. She had a file with all of the statements from the previous day. She sat down and pulled out Cathy’s report and statement. 

“Miss Greenwood, can you tell me why you found Ms Donovan’s comments so offensive?”

“Well, because I was offended. She referred to my boyfriend’s best friend as a freak, and to my boyfriend as the freak’s pet. I had known her for less than a minute when she told John that he must be glad that his friend was dead. Then she said that the freak and his pet were gay for each other. I’m afraid I really can’t think of any part of our conversation that was NOT offensive.”

“And what outcome would you like to come from your complaint?”

“That’s a good question, I wasn’t really thinking about what should be done to her. I suppose the first thing is to get her away from dealing with the public, no-one in need of help should be subjected to that sort of vitriol. Secondly, I think she needs some sort of, I don’t know, do you have sensitivity training? And she definitely owes John an apology. It’s too late for Sherlock, but perhaps an apology to his family.”

“Is that all, you don’t want her dismissed or demoted, shipped off to the Outer Hebrides?”

“I hadn’t thought of it, I think she said she had an acting promotion, which should probably be repealed, but I’m not sure the Outer Hebrides are ready for her.”

Inspector Leahy gathered her papers together, and asked John if there was anything he would like to add. 

He thought for a moment and said “really, I guess something should have been done about it a long time ago. The first time I met her, about two years ago, she addressed Sherlock as ‘Freak’. She said it as if it was a title she had used for a long time. We just let her get away with it. It truly is quite offensive, and yet no-one called her on it. We should have.”

After the inspector left, John and Cathy hugged, and then John walked her home, with an agreement that he would be at Cathy’s place for dinner at 7pm tomorrow. John stopped at Angelo’s on the way home and bought some take-away pasta, Cathy grabbed a mug of soup, packed the wool, needles and pattern for Mike’s hat and headed to her knitting group, but chose to not tell them anything about the crazy life she was living for the past couple of weeks. 

She was sure that they would never believe it!


	8. It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas has always been Cathy's favourite time of year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greenwich is one of my favourite places in London; everyone should go there at least once.  
> Nelson's uniform really is at the National Maritime Museum, and you can see the bullet hole and the blood on his shoulder.

Friday

John joined Cathy at the pub and met several of her friends-mostly from her uni days, but one woman who had met Cathy the week they started school together. Although John was a few years older, her friends seemed pleased to meet him, even though three of them did individually take him aside to warn him that if he broke her heart, they would break his arms. Or legs. John was happy to reassure them that violence would not be necessary-he had no intention of harming her heart.

Saturday

Cathy loved visiting museums. On Thursday when Cathy had said “London is an absolute gold mine of museums, and lots of them are actually free. I think I could visit a different museum every week, and never get bored. When is the last time you went to Greenwich? We can visit the observatory AND the Maritime Museum. It’s a great day out!” John thought it sounded like a good idea. His limp had improved a bit lately, but he was still much slower than he had been chasing criminals around the back streets of London. He had forgotten about the hill to get to the observatory, and in the end, they had taken quite a while to get to the top of the hill, but when they did they had enjoyed the view. They stood on the meridian, half east and half west, puzzled over the backwards clock and peered at the astronomical equipment. The walk down the hill was much easier, and they decided to have lunch before exploring the museum.

Over lunch, John raised the subject of Christmas-it was only two weeks away, and he hadn’t told Harry whether he would be with her and Liz for the day yet. They talked of childhood Christmases and how there always seemed to be too much food and presents, how their fathers had both always had a long nap after Christmas lunch, and how anticlimactic Boxing Day was.  
Cathy explained to John that this year, her brother Peter and his wife Caroline would be staying in London with their new baby, Hannah, and spending Christmas Day with Caroline’s family, but that Cathy would go with Mike and his girlfriend Emma who were driving to Torquay on the 24th and would be back on the 26th. She was hoping to see Peter and Caroline next weekend to give them their presents. 

John found himself suggesting that they invite both Cathy’s brothers AND Harry to dinner at 221b next week. “You can give them their presents and we can meet one another’s siblings. If it’s a Christmas party, well, you never know, they might not threaten to break my arms if I break your heart. And if your brothers like me they might put in a good word with your parents.” “Are you sure? That would be great. Your place would be big enough for all of us. At my place it would be a squeeze just to have Peter and Caroline.” “Why don’t you ring them now, see if they are free.” Within a few minutes it had all been arranged. Next Saturday, 7pm, Peter, Caroline, Hannah, Mike, Emma, Harry, Liz, John and Cathy, roast chicken and vegetables, Christmas pudding. “I guess we won’t be going to museums next Saturday. Do you have enough chairs? Will we put up a tree, or decorate? Or just clean the place and get some flowers?” “Chairs, I might have to borrow two from Mrs Hudson, maybe decorations but not a tree, and yes, we will clean and flowers always look good.” “Great, that’s all arranged, let’s go look at the museum. Did you know that Nelson’s uniform from Trafalgar is on display here? Bullet hole and all.” John didn’t mention that he knew what bullet holes looked like.

Next Saturday

During the week, Cathy had quickly knitted two simple lace scarves as gifts for Harry and Liz, and was working on one for Mrs Hudson. She had finished Mike’s hat and was making one for John as well. She had wrapped all the presents that were ready and she arrived at John’s place early on the Saturday morning with a bag of gifts, a change of clothes and a Christmas pudding she had made earlier in the week.

They headed firstly to the markets to buy a chicken and some vegetables, cream, flowers and some drinks-a couple of bottles of wine and some Coke and lemonade. Together they cleaned the already clean flat and then strung up the Christmas decorations which John had got from storage during the week. By late afternoon, Cathy was happy to put the dinner in the oven before she had a shower and changed into her party dress and heels.

The dinner was a huge success. The food was good, after a few awkward minutes, their guests had all chatted comfortable. Baby Hannah had proven to be a great ice-breaker, with Emma, Harry and Liz all taking turns to hold her. Peter and Mike had both given John the “break her heart and I’ll break your arms” talk, and when Harry offered to help Cathy with the gravy, she had done the same. 

The only awkward moment came when John was showing everyone around the flat. Caroline went to open the door to Sherlock’s room. John got flustered, and just pulled the door closed, “No, that’s my flatmate’s room, his things are all in there.” “Where is he? Will we meet him too?” “Uh no, he died a little while ago. I just put his things in there, I haven’t sorted them out yet.” Everyone started to talk at once, then went silent and they moved on to see the rest of the flat.

Peter and Caroline had been the first to leave, citing a sleeping Hannah’s need to be in her own cot for their 9pm departure. About 10, Liz and Harry, both wrapped in their new scarves had left, followed soon after by Mike and Emma, who had made arrangements to pick up Cathy at 9am on the 24th. A few minutes later, with the table cleared and the dishes done, John and Cathy collapsed on the couch. “Well, that was wonderful, thank you so much for letting me use your flat for me to see my brothers.” “It was an absolute pleasure, they seem nice. And you got to meet Harry on her best behaviour, so it was as good for me as it was for you. Now, I was wondering, would you, um, like to stay here? Rather than go out into the cold.” “Oh, I hadn’t, I mean, I wasn’t, um, are you sure?” “Absolutely sure. Every time I see you I feel a bit more sure that I want you in my life for the long term. And yes, having you stay over is a part of that. It doesn’t have to be tonight, although I would like it if it was, but if not, I would like it sooner rather than later. Will you think about it?”

Friday

On Friday, John and Cathy took Mrs Hudson to dinner. She loved the scarf Cathy had made for her and said she had been wanting to read the book John gave her, but got a little tearful when she opened the framed photo of her with John and Sherlock, which had been taken last Christmas. John insisted on wearing his new hat all night, and Cathy loved the beautiful soft alpaca/wool yarn that John had given her. He wouldn’t tell how he had known that she had been looking at just this wool only a couple of weeks ago. She promised she would make something wonderful for herself.

Christmas in Torquay 

Mike and Emma arrived a few minutes late, which was not unusual, and they set off for Torquay. They both quizzed Cathy about John, how did she meet him, how long ago, how serious was she? She answered vaguely; she really didn’t think she could explain Mycroft Holmes to anyone. Emma asked about John’s flatmate; had Cathy known him, how long since he died, was John always so upset about him? 

They stopped for lunch along the way and arrived to hugs from their parents and a vast array of food in the mid afternoon. Cathy groaned, she should have remembered that Christmas with her parents always meant twice as much food as anyone could ever hope to eat. When their parents started to quiz Mike and Emma about when they would be getting married (never, was Cathy’s guess), they deflected by telling Cathy’s mum that she was more likely to be a mother of the bride rather than groom. Naturally, Cathy’s mum needed to know ALL about John. Cathy tried to be a bit non-committal, but she did tell them that John was a doctor which, as expected, pleased her parents-a doctor was such a respectable profession. Then when she told them that he used to be in the Army Medical Corps and was a war hero, they just glowed with pleasure. Cathy studiously avoided mention of free clinics or consulting to Scotland Yard, and definitely avoided mentioning that she was involved herself in a case at present. Sally Donovan was not suitable material for a happy family chat.

It was a Greenwood family tradition to go to late night Church on Christmas Eve. When they were small, the children were allowed to open one present before bed. Nowadays, they skipped the present opening, but going to Church still brought back happy childhood memories. 

On Christmas Day, once again, their mother served far too much food, Cathy’s dad went to sleep afterwards and Cathy was unable to think of a way to avoid chatting to her mum when Mike and Emma went for a drive. She explained that she had only been seeing John for a little while but she thought it might get serious. That John was still mourning for his best friend who had died in front of him earlier in the year. That John had told her he wanted to see more of her. That John was the reason she would be going back to London the next day with Mike and Emma instead of staying for a few more days. As she expected, her mother was very excited at the prospect of Cathy being seriously involved with someone. She had liked Cathy’s last serious boyfriend, but that had been a couple of years ago. 

Early the next morning, Cathy left Torquay with Mike and Emma; the trip back to London seemed to go on forever, but by 2pm they had dropped her at her flat and headed home. She had rung John when they were about an hour from home, and he arrived a few minutes after she got home.

John hugged her like he never wanted to let go; his day with Harry and Liz had not been a success, Harry had decided one or two drinks wouldn’t hurt, which had not worked out well. John was reluctant to leave Liz alone to deal with Harry, but in the end, he had stormed out and felt guilty all night. Now he just needed some sanity. When Cathy suggested that maybe he should stay over, he had kissed her until they were both breathless.


	9. And a Happy New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes a giant step forward.

Tuesday

Waking up next to another warm body was so unfamiliar, that at first John thought he was still asleep, this was a dream. Then Cathy stirred, rolled over and threw an arm over his waist. John slowly realised that this was no dream, he really was lying beside Cathy, in Cathy’s bed and it felt warm and safe. It felt like home.

Over breakfast, John announced that he had decided that this almost-holiday week was the perfect opportunity to do something he should have done months ago, but had kept delaying-swapping bedrooms with Sherlock’s things. 

“For some reason, probably because he got there a few hours before me, Sherlock took the bigger bedroom. I got the smaller room upstairs. When he died I just packed his stuff up in boxes, put them in his room and closed the door. It’s six months since anyone went in there, so it’s sure to need a thorough clean, but what better opportunity to do it than this week. I have to work at the homeless clinic tomorrow, but Greg has his kids this week, so there’s no drinks night, I don’t have to go to the private clinic this week, I have time to empty his room, clean it from top to bottom, move my things in and put his things upstairs in the smaller room.”

“Well, I’m off work this week too, so I can help. Do you want to stay here this week?” John raised his brows, “no, nothing like that, it’s just that if you’re doing all that in your flat, you won’t have a clean bed to sleep in for at least two nights, and it will be a lot easier if you can just walk out at night, then back in the next morning to work. Bring some clothes over tonight. “ 

They did the breakfast dishes, spent a couple of minutes tidying Cathy’s tiny flat and headed off to Baker Street. When they opened the door to Sherlock’s room, dust flew everywhere. “Well, you did say it hadn’t been opened for six months. Let’s open the window, and I’ll get these curtains into the wash”

After two hours, all of Sherlock’s boxes were in the sitting room, the curtains and sheets were being washed, and the window was cleaned. “Time for a tea break!” announced John, so they stopped to take stock. 

“We’ve got a lot more done than I thought we would, but it really does need to be properly cleaned and then aired for a few hours before I bring my things down. Even though it is very cold, it’s best to leave the window open I think. I might be able to start bringing things down tonight.” 

After a short break, they resumed work. John cleaned the floor; Cathy put clean sheets on the bed and rehung the curtains. Then they emptied the cupboards and piled Sherlock’s clothes on top of the boxes in the sitting room.

“How about we pack up some of your clothes for the next couple of days and take them to my place, then we might go to Angelo’s for dinner-I, for one, do not feel like cooking.” 

“Great idea, I think it’s time to call it a day. We can leave the room to air until I finish work tomorrow, then we’ll bring my things downstairs and spend Thursday cleaning the upstairs room and taking Sherlock’s things upstairs.”

Over dinner, they discussed their timetable for the next few days. Cathy wanted to know how they would get all of Sherlock’s things up the stairs. 

“The clothes will be easy and the boxes won’t be too hard, but those filing cabinets are heavy –we’re going to need some extra helpers or a trolley or something. I honestly don’t think two of us could move them.” 

“I might ring a couple of people and put something on my blog, see if anyone knows where I could hire a trolley; I really don’t want to buy one when we might never use it again.” 

“That reminds me, a while ago I looked at Sherlock’s website; there is a link there to your blog. How would you feel about me reading it? I didn’t like to, I don’t know, snoop. It seemed a bit invasive.” 

“Sure, go ahead, it’s just that I have mentioned you a couple of times, so long as you don’t find that too embarrassing.”

After dinner, they walked back to Cathy’s flat. It really wasn’t big enough for two people, but it would do for a couple of days.

The blog of John H Watson  
“Does anyone know where I can get a trolley to move furniture and boxes up and down stairs? I think I just need it for one day. Lots of things to move, and I don’t think I can manage without help. Otherwise you lazy sods could just come around and carry things for me!”

From Greg L: Daniel and I might be able to help for a couple of hours. You could always use the man with a van that I used when I moved last time. He was good- not too pricey and had all the equipment to get the job done. Easier on the back too.

From Mrs Hudson: ???

From Mike S: Sorry mate, I don’t think I’d be much use. Where are you moving to?

After updating his blog, John handed the laptop over to Cathy, and she read with amazement the stories of his adventures with Sherlock. Starting with the serial killing cabbie, she read case after case, until at a bit after 11pm, they decided to head to bed. Cathy determined to finish reading the rest of the blog while John was at the clinic tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text from: Unknown number  
9.34: ”Mycroft, why is John moving. I thought you had arranged that he could afford to stay. We need him there to protect Mrs Hudson. He’s not moving in with that woman, is he? SH”

“As far as I know, John has not taken a lease anywhere else, and Cathy Greenwood’s flat is minute-far too small for John to move in. My people will investigate. I’ll let you know tomorrow. MH”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Wednesday

When John finished work, he and Cathy arranged to meet at 221b. The large room, which they still thought of as ‘Sherlock’s room’ was well aired and fairly gleamed. Over the next couple of hours, the pair of them brought all of John’s possessions downstairs and put them away in what was being transformed into ‘John’s room’. The room was far larger than the upstairs room, and still seemed spacious, even when all of John’s things were installed. 

They then made their way back upstairs and started to thoroughly clean the smaller room. Cathy stripped the sheets and took down the curtains to wash, while John cleaned the window and started on the floor. The bed was moved against the wall leaving as much space in the middle of the room as possible. Before they left, they each took an armful of Sherlock’s clothes upstairs and hung them in the wardrobe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text from: unknown number

8.17 “Mycroft, did your people find out where John is moving to? SH”

“Sherlock, there is nothing to worry about. John is moving your things into the upstairs bedroom and is moving himself into the downstairs bedroom. It is larger and more comfortable. I suspect he may be asking Miss Greenwood to move in with him shortly. MH”

“Mycroft, I am really not interested in what you ‘suspect’, I am only interested in facts. SH”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Thursday

John had decided to take Greg’s advice and had contacted a ‘Man with a Van’, who was to meet them at the flat at 10am. John and Cathy arrived by 9, and between them were able to carry all of Sherlock’s clothes upstairs and put them all in the cupboards. Only a couple of dozen boxes and two full filing cabinets remained in the sitting room to be moved when the removalist arrived. 

Greg had been correct, the right man with the right equipment was able to do the job far more quickly than a bunch of amateurs, and with far fewer aches and pains.

“Now, we probably should close the windows, turn on the heating and go and collect your things. And you had better let Mrs Hudson know that you aren’t moving out, just moving things around. We don’t want to upset her.” 

“No, I didn’t think of that, I guess she might think that I was moving, better not let her worry. Will we get takeaway tonight, maybe Chinese. Or would you rather just cheese on toast?” 

“Cheese on toast sounds great. You have no idea how much food my mother made us eat, I’m still stuffed from the weekend.”

Over their simple meal, Cathy told John how much she had enjoyed his blog, how his writing brought the cases to life. When John had explained that Sherlock always thought he romanticised the cases at the expense of the science, she laughed, and told him that the cases were so exciting, and that Sherlock might not have realised what ordinary people really liked, that maybe John should even see if a publisher would be interested in a book of their adventures. 

“After all, you are so used to the excitement of solving crimes, life must sometimes seem so dull. This would be a way to bring some of that excitement back into your life.”

John was a bit taken aback; he knew that he missed the excitement of the chase, but no-one before Cathy had appreciated that he would prefer the chase to the quiet life he lived now.

Cathy reluctantly told him that she would go home. 

“I really hate putting on dirty clothes in the morning, I don’t even have a toothbrush here. Would you mind if I brought a few thing around later in the week so I could leave them here, I’d always have a change of clothes and some toiletries. I don’t want to move in or anything, but it would be easier.” 

“Do you want to do it tonight? Or first thing tomorrow? And we need to make some plans for New Years Eve. What would you like to do?”


	10. Police, publishers and pupils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new year, a better year.

In the end, the New Years Eve problem was easily resolved. Peter and Caroline rang and invited Cathy and John to join them and some family and friends. Their social life had radically changed since Hannah was born, and now they did most of their socialising at home or visiting other couples and families. 

The 31st December found Cathy and John dressed in their best party finery in a cab to Peter and Caroline’s home. As expected, Mike and Emma were there, together with some of Peter’s colleagues from the insurance company, Caroline’s sister and brother in law and, to Cathy’s delight, her cousin Samantha with her latest boyfriend. 

Sam was a junior editor at a publishing company, and Cathy grabbed her arm immediately.

“I don’t want to talk business now, but can I see you some time this week. It’s to do with a book and whether your firm would be interested in publishing it. Can I ring you?” 

“Of course, Tuesday would probably be good. Now, who is this man who came with you, how serious are you about him?” The cousins chatted, and Cathy introduced John to her, and to everyone else she knew. Mike and Emma greeted him like long lost friends. At midnight, he kissed her gently and raised a glass of champagne in a toast “to a better year to come.” 

On Tuesday, Cathy rang Sam, and arranged to meet her for lunch, where Cathy showed her a few pages from John’s blog. She explained that Scotland Yard were re-investigating all of Sherlock’s cases, but (based on her recent chats with Greg) that they would soon be announcing that all of them were beyond suspicion. Some of the cold cases had happened before Sherlock was born, and others while he was at school. So far, any errors had been only minor details. Once the announcement was made and Sherlock’s name was cleared, a book based on John’s blog would be a best seller. If Sam’s firm wanted to be ready to release the book, John would need a contract soon so he could lock his blog, rewrite the stories and add some of the cases that had never been included before. Sam promised to talk to her manager, and get back to Cathy in the next day or two.

As she was finishing lunch, Cathy got a call from Elizabeth Leahy; could Cathy come into Scotland Yard this afternoon? The Inspector explained that Sally Donovan was willing to plead guilty to the charges relating to unprofessional conduct and inappropriate language, would attend a sensitivity training course and apologise to John. She had conceded that her acting promotion would be cancelled, but was not willing to apologise to Sherlock’s family. She had asked that the case not be publicised, and that she be allowed to transfer to a provincial force, where she could put the whole thing behind her and get on with her life and career. The investigating panel wanted to know if Cathy would agree to this, or did she want to go public and insist on a more onerous punishment. Was Cathy happy for Sally Donovan to remain in the police force? Her agreement would be virtually a rubber stamp on Sally’s proposal. If Cathy insisted on a full trial, Inspector Leahy was unsure of the punishment, if any, that would be handed down. 

Cathy asked for a day or two to consider the matter, and rang John as soon as she left the Inspector’s office. They met at Baker Street and Cathy explained that she was inclined to agree to Sally’s proposal; what did John think? Was it acceptable for Sally to not apologise to Sherlock’s family, how did John feel about her staying in the force in another city without a stain on her character? They discussed it for a while, and Cathy decided to ring the Inspector the next day to agree to Sally’s terms for a guilty plea.

Then she told John about her meeting with Sam;   
“how do you feel about being published? There would, I think, be quite a bit of work you would need to do to change your blog into a book, but if, as Greg seems to think, Sherlock’s name is going to be cleared soon, it would be an opportunity for everyone to learn how amazing he was.” 

John knew he was being manipulated a little, but he really didn’t mind. The thought of vindicating Sherlock was too tempting. He nodded, “Even if Sam’s firm isn’t interested, I might do it anyway and see if someone else is prepared to publish it. Sherlock deserves it!”

“Now, even though it’s Tuesday, Greg still has his kids staying with him, so we’re not going to the pub tonight. He asked me to come around for takeaway, I haven’t seen the kids for months. Would you like to come with me?”   
“You do know that I have seen one of them just before Christmas?” At John’s puzzled look, she continued “Sophie, I teach her, remember. That’s how Greg knew me to introduce us.” John laughed, “Of course, I had quite forgotten that I haven’t known you forever. Would you like to come?”

When Cathy and John arrived at Greg’s place, Sophie was taken aback; she had never really thought of her teachers having a social life, yet alone dating one of her dad’s best mates. Cathy wondered how long it would take for the whole school to be talking about Miss Greenwood and Sophie Lestrade’s family friend. Well, it was always going to happen one day. School was resuming next week, she would be ready. 

Despite Cathy’s agreement, it was several weeks before Sally Donovan’s case was wrapped up. By the end of February, Sally had left London and moved to Blackpool. Cathy had found that there was less gossip than she had expected at school about her and John. And meantime, their relationship was strengthening. She was now spending half her nights at John’s place, although still going to the gym a few times a week and never missing knitting group. At the end of January, she had told her knitting friends about the wonderful man she was knitting a new jumper for. That he was the same man who had bought her alpaca for Christmas. That he was gradually winning her heart.

Sam’s firm had made an offer to John and he was now spending his spare time revising his blog, and adding some of the cases that he had left out of the blog at the time. He had reviewed Sherlock’s files and knew that there were probably another two books of cases from before the meeting at Barts which had started John’s adventures with the detective.   
Life was looking very good indeed. All that was needed was for Sherlock’s name to be cleared. In early March, Greg rang John to tell him that an announcement would be made within the week; all the cases had been investigated, the only errors were insignificant. The recording on the roof from Sherlock’s phone was going to be released at the same time. Within a few days, the vultures of the press would be falling over themselves to deny that they had ever doubted him. 

The blog of John H Watson

7th March: “Just letting all of my readers know that from today, all of my case blogs will be ‘friends-locked’. In the next fortnight there will be an exciting announcement. I can’t say any more yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text message from: Unknown Number

8:17 “Mycroft, what is happening with John. Why is he locking his blog? What is this ‘exciting announcement’? SH”

“Sherlock, John’s life is going well at present. He has a contract with a publisher and I believe he will be publishing ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’ to coincide with the report clearing your name. MH”

“Are you sure he doesn’t suspect anything. There are still dangerous people out there, not least John and Greg’s would be assassins. SH”

“Sherlock, I am sure he doesn’t suspect anything. The report will clear your name but no-one doubts your death. There are only three of us who know. MH”


	11. The world has gone to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

At 10.11am on the 12th March, the world went to hell.

Two days earlier, John and Mycroft had been called to a meeting at Scotland Yard. After signing a confidentiality agreement, they were given copies of the report of the task force charged with re-investigating all of Sherlock’s cases. They entered into discussions and signed agreements. 

The following day, the police public affairs department advised all press outlets that a press conference would be held at 10am the next day, to release the details of the investigation. In light of her part in the initial accusations, a separate invitation was sent to Kitty Riley and a seat in the front row was reserved for her.

At 9.58, the entire investigating team entered the already packed room and sat in a row behind the table and microphone. 

At 9.59, John, Greg and Mycroft took their seats beside the table.

At 10am, the Chief Inspector who had headed the investigation entered the room, introduced himself to the reporters and began to speak.

“In a moment, I will play a recording for 8 minutes and 50 seconds. I will then make a statement and finally I will take questions. I will not answer any questions until the statement is completed. The recording was made on the roof of St Bart’s Hospital last June. The conversation is between Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty. It was recorded on Mr Holmes’ phone. We have ascertained that the recording is genuine. Copies of the recording will be available to you as you leave. It will also be made available on the internet within the next 10 minutes.

The reporters fidgeted for a few moments, but as the recording continued, they were stilled. The only sounds were the occasional gasp, and towards the end, a few muffled sobs. Kitty Riley’s expression changed from smugness to confusion to anger to embarrassment. And then she left.

When the Chief Inspector stood to make his statement, he had the complete attention of everyone in the room. He explained at length that every case Sherlock had been involved with in any capacity had been reinvestigated and in every case, he had been cleared of any wrong-doing. 

“This has been a major operation, and many resources which could have been devoted to ongoing investigations have been diverted into this investigation. The total lack of evidence against Mr Holmes has, from time to time, proven particularly frustrating to the team. They have felt that they have been prevented from investigating real crime by false accusations levelled by those with a vested interest in seeing crime flourish in our city. On behalf of the Police Force, I have already extended our apology to both the Holmes family and Mr Holmes’ friend and crime-solving partner, Dr John Watson. They have graciously accepted our apology. We have discussed the matter of compensation but both the Holmes family and Dr Watson have indicated that they would prefer an ex-gratia payment to be made to Mr Holmes favourite charities, Help for Heroes and Medecin Sans Frontiers. We are in the process of arranging for substantial amounts to be given to these organisations in Mr Holmes’ name. Now, are there any questions?”

After half an hour of intensive questions for the Chief Inspector, one reporter asked if Dr Watson or a member of the Holmes family would be available to answer questions. John rose and moved to the microphone. No, he bore no grudge against the police, his anger was reserved for those who had lied about his friend, the police had been forced to investigate the accusations. He had never doubted that the investigation would come to this conclusion. He had always had faith in Sherlock Holmes, the finest man he had ever known. Yes, he had in recent times, found some peace in revisiting the cases, and seeing once again his friend’s brilliance. He had in fact written a book which would be released next week which recounted some of the more famous cases, some which were known only to those involved in them and some personal insights into the man himself. If anyone wanted to know the truth about Sherlock Holmes, they should buy the book. (His publisher should be happy with that!).

Within a few minutes, the room had cleared as the newspaper reporters rushed back to their offices to lodge stories for the afternoon edition.Television and radio reporters mobbed John and Greg for their comments, and to arrange longer interviews later in the day. John and Greg took the opportunity for a quick lunch break before setting out for a round of TV interviews. 

That night Greg, Diane, John and Cathy took Mrs Hudson to Angelo’s to celebrate and mourn. The afternoon papers and the TV stations were clearly trying to imply that they had never believed the lies. Even those who had been most vocal in their condemnation were insisting that they had always believed in Sherlock Holmes. In his interviews, John had repeatedly mentioned his book, ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’, and his publisher reported an enormous amount of interest from book reviewers, book stores and pre-sales. Even before the release of the book, they were talking about whether there was enough material for another book. All the chat shows were clamouring to have John as a guest next week. Regardless of the financial rewards, John was determined to grab the opportunity to clear Sherlock’s name. By the end of the month, there would be no chance that anyone in Britain would not know the truth.

After dinner, John and Cathy walked Mrs Hudson home. Leaving her at her door, they climbed the stairs to the sanctuary of 221b, where John hugged Cathy and wept against her shoulder, wept for the unfairness, the loss, the anger. Wept in pain and sorrow for the loss of a friend who did not deserve what had happened to him. Cathy was grateful for her late start on Thursday-by the time she and John had finally fallen asleep, it was well past midnight. 

They were still undecided about revealing to the world at large that they were in a relationship. The book was dedicated ‘To SH and CG, who make my life worthwhile’, and they were sure that questions would be asked about the identity of CG, but wondered whether Cathy should appear with John at his publicity appearances next week. Cathy said that she was proud to be with John, but understood that the school board and her parents might be reluctant to have her publicly known as John’s partner. Eventually, they decided to play it very cool and low-key. If anyone asked, they would answer truthfully, but they would not tell unless asked. Cathy rang her parents to tell them what was happening, and made an appointment with the school headmistress to advise her of the possible fallout.

On the 19th March, the book was released to positive reviews and massive sales. The week passed in a blur of publicity interviews and book signings. Cathy went with John a couple of times, but was happy to avoid the worst of the crowds.

With Easter approaching, they decided that it was time John met the Greenwood parents. At 8.35 on Good Friday morning, they headed west out of town, arriving in Torquay in the mid afternoon. Cathy’s mother flitted around making sure that they were comfortable. Cathy did have to explain that she and John would prefer to share a room, that although they were not living together YET, she was staying at John’s place several nights a week, that she was in fact very, very serious about her relationship with John. 

“Mother, we will share a room. John has had a difficult time lately, he sometimes has nightmares, if for no other reason, I need to be there for him” 

Mean time, John and Cathy’s father had hit it off. Cathy’s grandfather had served in the military, and Cathy’s father had grown up with a great respect for the forces. His little girl was clearly besotted with her ex-soldier and he couldn’t deny her anything (Cathy had always been her daddy’s little girl). For the rest of the weekend, the four of them travelled around the Torquay area, seeing the sights and meeting friends. 

On Sunday morning they all went to Church together, and Cathy’s parents introduced them to the minister and many of the congregation. After a few minutes, they learned to politely deflect the questions about weddings. This wasn’t something John planned to discuss with the world at large before even discussing it with Cathy. 

On Monday morning before leaving for London, John had a long chat in the garden with Cathy’s father. He explained that he was very, very serious about Cathy, that he might in fact be asking permission to marry her later in the year, but not yet. They had only known each other for five months. This was for the long haul, there was no need to rush things. As they left for home, Cathy’s parents waved to them, then turned to each other and smiled-their little girl had found what they had always wanted for her-someone who loved her.

When John and Cathy got back to Baker Street, they knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door, but to their alarm, she didn’t answer. She had told them that she would be home all weekend, and so they came down later and knocked again. Then they rang, first on the landline and then on her mobile. 

Finally she answered, her voice weak, and told them that she was in the flat, but too ill to answer the door. John found Sherlock’s lock picks and after a few minutes was able to get into his landlady’s flat. She was obviously ill; pale, weak, dehydrated and shivering. John rang for an ambulance and John and Cathy followed the ambulance to hospital, where they waited impatiently until they were able to see her. She told them that she was being kept at least overnight, she couldn’t remember how long she would be kept here. Maybe John could talk to the doctors. 

Alarmed, John found a doctor who told them that his landlady was suffering from an infection which had affected her lungs, possibly pneumonia. For her age, she was dangerously ill. She might be in hospital for up to a week. 

The euphoria of their happy weekend had evaporated; concern for the older lady was the over-riding issue for them, but they were not allowed to stay. She wasn’t family, they had no right to be with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Help for Heroes and Medecin Sans Frontiers are wonderful organisations. Because of their work with, among other people, war heroes and providing medical expertise in war torn areas, they are organisations which I believe Sherlock would admire. If indeed it occurred to him to help any charity, these are two which he would support, and which he would want us to support. They have offices in many countries, and I would urge you to consider donating to them.


	12. In the midst of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Hudson is seriously ill

The blog of John H Watson  
11th April: Sorry for the delay in updating. Cathy and I returned on Monday from a lovely weekend in Torquay to find that Mrs Hudson has taken ill. We got an ambulance for her and she has been in hospital since Monday night. At first they thought it was pneumonia, now they seem less sure. Cathy and I have been spending most of our time at the hospital. It’s a good thing schools are still on holiday. Mrs H seems to settle better when one of us is there, and I have had to work a couple of days this week. I think Cathy just knits and they chat when Mrs H is up to it.  
For those of you who do this sort of thing, can you please pray for Mrs H. 

From Greg L: not good news John, can you keep us advised  
JHW: Will do

From Molly H: Oh John that’s not good at all. Please give Mrs H my love.  
JHW: Of course, would you like to come and see her too? I’m sure she would love to see you.

From Mike G: Did you two have fun with the parents? Mum rang and said she was very impressed with you! Sorry to hear about Mrs H being ill. Hope they find out what’s wrong soon.  
JHW: We had a lovely time with your parents. We got to look around Torquay too-I’d never been there before. Hopefully we will get back later in the year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Test Message from : Unknown number

9.38 ‘Mycroft, I need to know how Mrs H is. Is she getting the best possible care? SH’

‘Sherlock, of course she is. I’m arranging for her to be moved to a private room where John and Cathy can stay with her for longer hours. Specialists will be seeing her in the morning. MH’

‘Mycroft, I don’t care whether Cathy can spend all day knitting with her; I am only concerned for Mrs Hudson’s care and welfare. SH’

‘Sherlock, Cathy is a caring woman and her presence seems to help soothe Mrs H. Cathy’s comfort is necessary for Mrs Hudson’s recovery. MH’

‘Fine, just make sure the best doctors are on hand. SH’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Blog of John H Watson

15th April: Mrs H is in a private room and seems to be getting the absolute best possible care but is still not improving as we would hope. Cathy goes back to school tomorrow, so will have less time to spend at the hospital, so if anyone else has some spare time during school hours it would be great if you could drop by and keep her company for a few minutes.

From Molly H: John, I will try to drop in to see her tomorrow. Depends on my work load, but I should be able to spend 30 minutes or so during my lunch break.  
JHW: Molly, that would be wonderful. You’re a champ. I haven’t seen you for ages, is there any chance you could drop in before you go home to see me and meet Cathy? We’ve been going out for 5 months and I haven’t seen you in all that time.  
From Molly H: I’ll try.

From Mike S: Mate, I might have a few spare minutes about 2pm.  
JHW: Thanks Mike, I’d be grateful

From Greg L: I doubt I’d be able to make it tomorrow, but maybe later in the week. Might be best if we cancel Tuesday night drinks? Or should we meet at the hospital instead?  
JHW: Great idea about Tuesday, but I think Cathy was planning to spend a couple of hours with her to give me some time off. Cathy goes out on Wednesday, so I’ll stay with Mrs H then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text from: unknown number

9.17 ‘Mycroft, have all your experts been able to find any answers yet? SH’

‘Sherlock, they are still doing tests. When they find something I will let you know. MH’

‘Is it totally necessary for Cathy to be constantly at John and Mrs H’s side. Doesn’t she have children to teach? SH’

‘ Schools have holidays, she has spent most of hers helping John care for Mrs H. Tomorrow she has to go back to work and will have less time. I’m sure if other people Mrs H loves were around Cathy would be able to leave her bedside. MH’

‘Mycroft, that was unnecessary. I am working as quickly as I can. SH’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Blog of John H Watson

19th April: If anything, Mrs Hudson seemed worse tonight that earlier in the week. The doctors are still uncertain of their diagnosis. We are getting even more worried. 

 

Blog of John H Watson

21st April: A lot of you already know, and now we are going to tell the rest of you. In the midst of worrying about Mrs H, we have some wonderful news. Cathy has agreed to marry me. I rang her parents yesterday afternoon and they gave their blessing, so when we were about to leave the hospital last night I did the whole thing, dropped to one knee (which is not as easy as it sounds) and asked her. Mrs H got all tearful when Cathy said yes. When we got home we rang our families and a couple of friends (sorry to interrupt your date Greg). Today we are just so very happy. Mrs H seems so much brighter today, but how much of that is wedding planning and how much is actual improvement, well I don’t know.

From Greg L: We didn’t mind the interruption. Cathy is a wonderful girl and you are incredibly lucky-far luckier than you deserve.  
JHW: Thanks, I know I’m overwhelmed that she wants to spend her life with me. Just amazing!

From Molly H: Oh John, that is such wonderful news. Congratulations  
JHW: Thanks Molly, we’re very happy.

From Mike G: Welcome to the family. I’m sure I told you before, and it still applies, break her heart and I’ll break your arms. She is a great girl, wonderful sister, deserves the best.  
JHW: Thanks Mike, I have no intention of ever hurting her. I plan to spend my life proving that I deserve her

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Test from: Unknown number

8.57: ‘Mycroft, what on earth is John thinking of. Can’t you stop this? Attachment could endanger John, he needs to not have any encumbrances. Fix it! SH’

‘Sherlock, Cathy is the best thing to happen to John since you stepped off the roof. She has given John a new reason to live. She is a wonderful girl and totally worthy of him. If you met her, you would be surprised by how much like John she is. MH’

‘Mycroft, sentiment? Really! SH’

‘Sherlock, yes, sentiment. I’m sure you are familiar with it. You would be better off if you let yourself feel it. MH’

‘Mycroft, how is Mrs Hudson. Apart from the sentimentality –John actually proposed in front of her?, have her doctors found the problem. SH’

‘Sherlock, I will speak to them again on Monday. MH’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The blog of John H Watson

24th April: We had a pleasant surprise today; as Cathy and I arrived, Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock’s brother) was leaving with another man. It was very thoughtful of him to visit. I’m sure if Sherlock was still with us, he would be driving us crazy with needing to be there. He was devoted to Mrs H. She hasn’t been the same since he died.   
Mrs H said that Mycroft had been in yesterday too. I can’t help but remember the time Sherlock told Mycroft off because he complained about Mrs H. Sherlock and Mrs H were so close, I know she misses him. At a time like this, when Cathy and I are just overwhelmingly happy, I can’t help but wish he was here too. I’m sure he would love Cathy as much as I do. Well, maybe not AS MUCH, but I’m sure she would win him over. Sherlock never liked most of my girlfriends, but I’m sure he would like Cathy. She is so smart, so loyal, so patient and so kind.

From Mycroft H: John, I know that Sherlock would want me to visit Mrs Hudson on his behalf. He loved her too.  
JHW: Thanks Mycroft, it was a very decent thing to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text from: Unknown number

10.12 ‘Mycroft, sentiment! SH’

‘Sherlock, I visited Mrs H on your behalf. She asked me to arrange some legal matters, so I returned. Do you need me to keep visiting her? MH’

‘Mycroft, if it enables you to get more information, then you should visit often. SH’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The blog of John H Watson

28th April: Despite the excitement of wedding planning, Mrs H does not seem to be responding well to treatment. We came home early tonight as she kept falling asleep. I am so worried about her.

The blog of John H Watson

1st May: Mrs H has been moved to intensive care today. She is not responding well. She can only have one visitor at a time. I went there this afternoon, then Cathy and I had dinner in the hospital cafeteria, which is not great, then Cathy stayed with her for an hour or so while I went to meet Greg. She was home before me, because Mrs H was falling asleep.

The blog of John H Watson

4th May: Mrs H is still not improving. I can’t help but wonder if she has simply lost the will to live? Since Sherlock, she has been overwhelmingly sad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text message from: Unknown number

9.34 ‘Mycroft, this ‘theory’ of John’s cannot be right. SH’

‘Sherlock, she is still terribly sad about your ‘death’. She loved you very much, and your loss has hit her very hard. MH’

‘That cannot be right. SH’

‘Strange as it may seem, she was devoted to you Sherlock. John may be right. MH’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The blog of John H Watson

9th May: I cannot believe it. Mrs Hudson died this afternoon. Cathy and I are just distraught, as you might imagine. From the first time she met me, she welcomed me into her home; if I was good enough to be Sherlock’s friend, then I was good enough to be hers too. After Sherlock died, we clung to each other, and when I introduced her to Cathy, they took to one another immediately. She was the one who told me I had to kiss her, when I said I hadn’t after three dates. She was there when I proposed. She seemed so very happy at the prospect of a wedding. I will miss her. I know Cathy will miss her. She was a wonderful lady and we loved her.

From Greg L: Sad news John, can you let us know the funeral details. Mrs H was a wonderful lady. I’ll miss her.  
JHW: I’ll let you know details when we know them

From Molly H: John, this is so sad, she was a lovely lady

From Mycroft H: John, thank you for letting us know this sad news. Who is arranging the funeral? I would be happy to help with it. Sadly, I have experience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text from: unknown number

9.11 ‘Mycroft, you didn’t tell me it was so serious. How could this have happened. SH’

‘Sherlock, she was an old lady, far more frail than she wanted us to know. MH’

‘Mycroft, John shouldn’t need to organise the funeral. Don’t you have minions to do that. SH’

‘Sherlock, I will arrange it, and there will be flowers from both of us. MH’

‘Mycroft, I want to be there for her. SH’

‘Sherlock, sentiment. It could kill you. And John and Greg –their snipers are still at large. MH’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The blog of John H Watson

11th May: Mrs Hudson’s funeral will be next Monday at 10am. She is going to be buried next to Sherlock. I think they would both like that.

The blog of John H Watson 

18th May: Mrs Hudson wrote a new will while she was in hospital and left 221 Baker St to Cathy and me. We are quite overwhelmed. It does make up our minds as to where we will be living after the wedding. What a wonderful lady she was. We miss her so much.


	13. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Cathy get a wonderful surprise and do some serious planning.

Mycroft’s staff had organised the funeral.

John had been surprised to see how many people were there-several of the neighbours from Baker Street, people from Mrs Hudson’s church choir, Greg and a couple of other Yarders, Molly, Mike and some of the nursing staff from St Barts. There were a couple of ladies who looked to be the same age as Mrs Hudson, one of them told Cathy that they had been school friends and had stayed in touch. One of them had brought her son, who informed John that Auntie had been his godmother. Even Mycroft and the man who had been with him when Cathy and John had seen him at the hospital were there. 

Throughout, everyone treated John and Cathy as the ‘mourners in chief’, which seemed a little odd, but then John considered that although there were many friends, there were no relatives, and John had been living in the same house for the past few years.

As people were starting to leave, the man who had been with Mycroft at the hospital came over to John and asked if it would be possible to see him and Cathy some time later this week and handed over his card. John saw that he was a lawyer named William Davis, and immediately worried that he would need to leave 221b. Lawyers, in John’s experience, never brought good news!

John rang the office and was able to make an appointment after school on Thursday. Mr Davis explained that he had been to the hospital to visit Mrs Hudson, as she wanted to make a new will. She had left small legacies to a number of charities, a few thousand pounds to her godson and the balance of her estate, including 221 Baker Street and its contents jointly to John and Cathy. There was only a small amount of cash, but the house, Mrs Hudson’s most valuable asset, was John and Cathy’s. Mr Davis explained that she had told him that previously she was going to leave it to John and Sherlock, but following Sherlock’s death and now John and Cathy’s engagement, she wanted to give them a home. John and Cathy were simply amazed; although they had been so very fond of her, they never expected Mrs Hudson to leave them more than a token remembrance

When they got back to 221b, Cathy started to prepare a casserole for dinner while John cleared the table and spread out the paperwork Mr Davis had given them. Once dinner was in the oven, they sat at the table and started looking through the papers. 

“Well, my love, what are we going to do? I suppose the first thing we should do is look at everything from basement to attic. You’ve never even seen the basement, have you?” and they set off for 221c. John opened the door and the first thing that struck them, even in late spring, was the dampness of the rooms.

“I’m not sure, but I think the first thing we need to do is get a builder in to see if we can properly ventilate the whole basement. Then if we can, we could put a laundry and a drying room in, and maybe a store room and a play room.” 

“A play room, storage?” 

“Well, if we had a dry storage room here, we could move all of Sherlock’s things into it. And there might be things of Mrs Hudson that we don’t want to throw out, but we don’t want them in our living areas. And a playroom, yes, we’re getting married, remember, that might mean that one day we have children. The sun might be shining today, but some days it won’t and if we have a lovely big play room, the children would have somewhere to, well, play.” 

“That’s a brilliant idea. So you want to live here once we get married?” 

“Of course, it’s a lovely building and a great area. Why wouldn’t we live here? Actually, my lease is up at the end of July, so maybe even before we get married. Or maybe I should move into 221a, if you don’t want us to actually ‘live together’. It’s something I wanted to talk to you about, but with Mrs Hudson it really hasn’t come up. And I was thinking that maybe we should talk about when we want to get married. And are we going to have children? How many?” 

“Tomorrow? No, probably not enough time to do the paperwork! I want to marry you whenever we can. When were you thinking of? And I want children, at least two, maybe three.” 

“Being a teacher, the best time for me to get married is the start of the school holidays. This July is a bit soon to organise things, and I think my parents would definitely like us to wait until we’ve known each other for more than a year anyway. The Christmas holidays only go for two weeks, and well, it’s Christmas, which makes it a bit difficult to arrange. Really, it needs to either be next Easter or July next year.” 

“OK, we could make it July and take a long honeymoon, but as for living together, I think that would be wonderful. You could move in the first week of the holidays, and we would have a week to get your flat spotless before your lease is up.”

With their arms around one another’s waists, they went up the stairs to Mrs Hudson’s flat. They had emptied the fridge weeks ago, just after Mrs Hudson had gone to hospital, but now they opened the larder and started to pull out all the open food packets. After only a few minutes they had filled a garbage bag with food to throw out, but agreed to leave the sealed packages for another day. Then they went through the immaculate flat, stopping to look at the paintings and photographs on the walls and shelves.

Once they had gone back to 221b, John made the tea and they sat down to consider options. 

Cathy spoke first ”this might seem odd, but I think we should get builders in, not just to fix the basement, but to turn this building back into one house, instead of flats. I know we could rent out part of the house, but I love the idea of this being our home, and I really don’t like the idea of sharing even the building with someone else”. 

The rest of the evening was spent sketching plans for how the building could be reorganised. The laundry, play room and storage in the basement, the kitchen and sitting room on the ground floor, bedrooms and bathrooms on the first floor and in the attic. And the bedroom and bathroom on the ground floor could be either their room or the spare room. 

“Having the spare room on the ground floor would be great if my parents came to visit, they might struggle a bit with stairs. And if we sleep upstairs, and the other bedrooms are upstairs too, we would be close to the children’s rooms.” 

“Which might not always be good. We might want some privacy from them” 

Cathy laughed, “We haven’t even got married yet and you’re already worried about our theoretical children interrupting our sex life!” 

“I wonder how much of this building work could be done while we were living here, or if we would need to move out for a while?” 

“Would you like to contact a couple of builders for quotes, they would be able to tell us if our plans are feasible, and how much disruption it would cause. Maybe they could do a floor at a time, and we could move into the spare room downstairs while they do up here.”

On Friday, John was due to work at the homeless shelter clinic from 10 to 4. Before going to work, he rang his sister; Harry had renovated a couple of years earlier, maybe she could recommend a good builder. It was probably a mistake; Harry was managing to stay (mostly) sober, but the bitterness over life’s supposed unfairness remained. John hadn’t rung for weeks, Harry didn’t care that John had been at the hospital with some ‘stranger’, she (Harry) was his only sister, and John should ring her more. John was about to retort that Harry could always ring him instead, but bit his tongue. Harry in a bad mood was unbearable. Anyway, what did John want? She assumed that John would only ring if he wanted something. John decided that finding out the name of her builder simply wasn’t worth the aggravation, so he just said that he had rung to see how she was, and after a short discussion, rang off.

Cathy on the other hand, was happy to announce to the staff room at school that she and John had set a tentative date for their wedding, and that they had inherited a house, which needed work but which was definitely liveable. One of her colleagues had renovated the previous summer, and promised to get out the details of the builder she had used and bring them in on Monday.

The blog of John H Watson 

18th May: Mrs Hudson wrote a new will while she was in hospital and left 221 Baker St to Cathy and me. We are quite overwhelmed. It does make up our minds as to where we will be living  
after the wedding. What a wonderful lady she was. We miss her so much.

18th May: We are thinking of doing some renovations to the building in the next year or so to turn it into a family home. Does anyone have experience with a good builder? Neither of us have the faintest idea of where to start. At this stage the whole idea is brand new, but we thought that if we spoke to some builders they could tell us if our ideas are feasible.

Molly H: My mum had some work done on her place two years ago, I’ll talk to her tomorrow and ask how she found it.  
JHW: Thanks Molly, that’s the sort of thing I want.

Mike G: I think one of the other nurses at work had extensions last year. I’ll ask her on Monday.  
JHW: Thanks Mike. We want your sister’s home to be perfect!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Text message from: Unknown number

10.17 “Mycroft, should John be encouraged with this idea, surely it would be better to keep 221 as three flats. Can’t you ‘suggest’ that they keep it as it is and rent out the other flats? SH”

“Sherlock, I’m sure they will have room for you. Maybe they could give you the basement to live in. MH”

“Mycroft, don’t be ridiculous, my concern is for their cash flow. If John insists on marrying this woman they will need the income from renting the flats. SH”

“Sherlock, maybe they don’t want to share their home with strangers. MH”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	14. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More changes than John had ever expected

As mid June and the anniversary of Sherlock’s death approached, John reflected on the changes that had taken place in the past year. The loss of his best friend, meeting and falling in love with Cathy and then proposing to her, Sherlock’s vindication, the publication of ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’ and finally Mrs Hudson’s death were the highlights and lowlights of the worst and best year of his life. The people he had met, and watching Cathy stand up to Sally Donavon filled out his memories of a year he would never forget.

The day itself, the anniversary, was painful. John and Cathy went to the cemetery, put flowers on both Sherlock’s and Mrs Hudson’s graves and then went to Angelo’s for dinner in their favourite restaurant. For the second time that year, when they returned home, John and Cathy hugged as John wept for his friend.

For the first few days of the July school holidays, John and Cathy went to Torquay, seeing the sights, meeting more of Cathy’s parent’s friends and discussing wedding plans. They then returned to London to move Cathy’s things into 221b, and were caught up in the excitement of the Olympic Games. They were only able to get tickets for a few events, but thoroughly enjoyed being part of the crowd for the triathlon, cycling road race and marathon. Seeing their city at its best on the world stage brought a sense of pride they had never experienced before. The down side of the Olympics was that the builder they had hired to start the renovations at 221 was unable to start until mid August-he and his crew had a bad case of Olympic fever, but the sheer difficulty of driving around the city made it impossible to start work during the games. 

The day after the Olympic closing ceremony, their builder, Dave, and his crew arrived to start working in the basement. The biggest issue was the dampness-apart from fixing the existing problem, the builder would be installing sub-floor heating and proper ventilation, putting in a large storage room in the front of the basement, and a laundry against the back wall where there were some small high windows. After some discussion, they had decided to replace the current, poorly designed and unventilated bathroom with a modern loo next to the laundry and at the last minute decided that a shower cubicle on the other side of the loo would be useful too. Even if it was only used rarely, it would be easier to put it in now, rather than decide later that they needed it and then have to call the builders back. 

By the end of August, the basement was unrecognisable. As the basement had almost no natural light, John and Cathy painted the whole area in a sunny buttercup yellow. The following week, a ‘man with a van’ moved everything from the upstairs bedroom into the storage room –the boxes with Sherlock’s scientific equipment, the wardrobe and chest of drawers with all of Sherlock’s clothes, the bed and the filing cabinets which documented all of his cases, even the most obscure. The periodic table was ceremoniously pinned to the wall, and it really was “Sherlock’s room”, a place full of memories.

John and Cathy decided to leave the rest of the renovations until January, and to spend the time clearing out Mrs Hudson’s flat and then moving into 221a so the builders could completely overhaul the upper storeys of the building, and then to finally remove the barriers which separated the building into flats.

Mrs Hudson had been a hoarder. She had tacky souvenirs from holidays in various beachside towns, some from her time in America and shoeboxes full of newspaper cuttings relating to Sherlock’s career. John took on the task of filing all the cuttings into the relevant case files, and Mrs Hudson’s clothes and most of the souvenirs where taken to a local second hand shop. They welcomed the clothes, and raised their eyebrows at some of the mementos, but agreed to take them although they wouldn’t pay for them!

Early in November, John and Cathy decided that, in honour of their first ‘date’ last year, they would go to Twickenham for the rugby test against Australia in mid November. And then two weeks later, on the actual anniversary of that memorable night, they went to Angelo’s for a special dinner.

After John opened the door at 221, they started to make their way up the stairs, a task made all the more difficult by having their arms entwined around one another’s waists and having to stop every step or two for kisses. As they reached the top of the stairs, John paused. 

“I thought we turned the lights off before we left. Can you remember?” 

“I’m sure they were off, how could there be light under the...”

John moved to stand in front of Cathy as he carefully opened the door. And took a step, and then another. 

“John!” drawled the man on the couch. 

“Wha, Sherl, no, you can’t be...” John staggered towards his chair as Cathy followed him into the room. 

“And you must be the fiancée, Cathy. I’m”, 

“I know who you are, Sherlock Holmes, I thought you were dead.” 

“Well, I WAS, but I really wasn’t and...” 

Cathy felt her hand bunch into a fist and without thinking, her right arm moved forward until her fist connected with the jaw of the man who was starting to rise. He staggered back onto the couch, 

“Oh, that had some power; I must have lost my charm.” 

“Charm? I’ll give you charm. What were you thinking of, doing that to John, were you around all that time?” 

“Cathy, don’t hit him again. Charm, he never had charm, he must be joking, no, he never jokes.” 

Cathy moved towards John, “John, are you alright? What can I do for you?” 

“I think you have already done it, you gave HIM the hit he deserved. I’ll be fine. I think Sherlock has some explaining to do.”

And so he did. Into the early hours of the morning, Sherlock told them some of things he had done since he had faked his death, with help from Molly and Mycroft. 

“Molly, I can’t believe it, I’ve hardly seen her, and I thought she was avoiding me. And Mycroft, this is not the first time, but I swear, one day I really will kill him!” 

“Molly was avoiding you, she felt so guilty, she urged me to tell you, but I wouldn’t and she was worried she would give it away if she saw you. Mycroft, well, much as I hate to say it, he has been invaluable. He kept an eye on you and told me what you were doing. And without him I wouldn’t have been able to dismantle Moriarty’s network. There are only two left to find and destroy. John, have you ever heard of an ex- Colonel Sebastian Moran? He was dishonourably discharged from the army in Afghanistan, something to do with torturing suspected members of the Taliban. He was Moriarty’s second in command, and he was assigned the job of killing you John. I know he is in London, and I suspect he has killed recently, but he is still watching you. He really can’t know that I am alive, because he is still determined to kill you if I am not dead.”

John shook his head, “the name is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place the man, I don’t think we have ever met. Who else is still out there?” 

“I don’t know his name, or anything about him. He is the man assigned to kill Greg.” 

Sherlock noticed that neither John nor Cathy seemed surprised by this.

“You know about the threats to my friends?” 

“Yes Sherlock, we know you recorded that conversation with Moriarty. We heard it when Scotland Yard released the report into the investigation of your cases. You were exonerated, by the way.” 

“Of course I was. They’re idiots, but even they could see the evidence was good. Anyway, SOMEONE at Scotland Yard was assigned to assassinate Greg. I suspect it was the same person who was providing information to Moriarty’s people. I infiltrated various groups to take them out. None of the groups knew anything about the others; they were only connected to the centre of the web, not to each other, so I was able to move from one group to another. They were all getting information, and then last December, the flow of information slowed and then by January there was hardly anything and by February it stopped. Just stopped, there hasn’t been a word since. John, do you know if anyone left there during that period?” 

“I can’t remember, but of course, we were a bit wrapped up in one another at the time, it’s a year tonight since our first date. We have to thank Mycroft actually, he set us up. But I still might kill him for not telling me you were alive.” 

“It was essential John, Moran was watching you. If you suddenly became happy, Moran would have suspected something. You would have ended up dead, and everything I had gone through would have been for nothing. Cathy, I don’t suppose you would know anyone who left Scotland Yard?” 

Cathy frowned in concentration, “I didn’t really know anyone there except Greg until December. I met a few people there, but it was mainly connected with the Sally Donavon affair and apart from Sally, I don’t think any of them left. Well, not in February anyway.” 

“What do you mean, the ‘Sally Donavon affair”, surely she isn’t STILL having an affair with Anderson?” 

“No” protested Cathy, “not that sort of affair. The first time I meant her, last December, within five minutes of meeting her, she referred to you as ‘the Freak’ and John as ‘the Freak’s pet’. I was outraged, so I lodged an official complaint. She had to do sensitivity training and apologise to John, she lost her acting promotion and at the end of February she left London and moved somewhere up north. She hates you and John, but she REALLY hates me!” 

“Hang on, you mean she left London, left Scotland Yard, at the end of February? When did you lodge your complaint?” 

“Early in December, within half an hour of meeting her. I was totally offended, well she was totally offensive.” 

“Sally Donovan, the woman who worked with Greg Lestrade, called John my pet, worked at Scotland Yard, in December she went up on charges, in February she left. Am I understanding you right?” 

“Yes, that sort of sums it up.” 

“Sally Donovan” breathed John, “She couldn’t. Could she?” 

“John, when you have eliminated the impossible” 

“Yes I know, whatever remains must be true. But Sally Donovan? How could she have, Greg was her boss. She seemed devoted to him. She was always complaining that you would bring him down. Sally Donovan. No...” 

“We’ll have to ring Greg, get him around to work out the best way to handle this.” 

“Not now we don’t, he would kill me if I rang him at, what 2am. It’s time we all went to bed.” 

“But John” 

“Don’t you ‘but John’ me, Sherlock, it’s time for bed. For sleep.” 

“But John, I’ve looked around. Your bed is gone, where on earth are you going to sleep?” 

“No Sherlock, my bed is in what used to be your bedroom. Your bed is in the basement. You can sleep in what was Mrs Hudson’s bed if you like. You do know she died in May, don’t you?” 

“Yes John, I checked your blog nearly every day. Mycroft wouldn’t let me come to the funeral. I might just sleep here on the couch.” 

“OK, if you like. In the morning we’ll work out where you’re going to sleep regularly. And you will sleep regularly Sherlock, you will!”

The next day, John had to make an awkward phone call to Greg, asking him to come to 221b, but without telling him why. By 8.30, Cathy had left for school, passing Greg on the stairs. 

“Hi Cathy, how are you? What’s all this about?” 

“I’m fine, it might be best if John tells you. I have to go, I have a class in 30 minutes”. 

Greg bounded up the rest of the stairs, knocked on the door and greeted John warmly, 

“What was so urgent?” 

“Hello Greg, long time, no see” came a voice from the kitchen doorway 

“What, but, but you’re ...” 

“Well, actually, no, I’m not. Never was. Had to pretend to be dead, but I’ve been busy taking out Moriarty’s network, there are only two left.” 

And then Sherlock and John proceeded to explain what had happened, what needed to be done. Sherlock stressed the importance of not letting anyone know yet that he was alive. Greg insisted that they must be wrong, it couldn’t have been Sally, but eventually he realised that it could have been, indeed it almost certainly was. Greg insisted that the best way to get more information was for him to go alone to Scotland Yard. He would check some details that Sherlock had given them against the Yard’s records, and he would liaise with someone he knew in the Blackpool police to find out what Sally was up to, and what her roster was for the next week or so.

That evening the four of them discussed strategies. Cathy insisted that she would go with them to Blackpool. 

“A friend of mine holidays there often, she told me a good hotel to stay at. Having just you three would seem a bit odd, but if I’m there it would seem more ‘normal’. A couple and two of their mates. Or maybe one of their mates and someone else who is unconnected to them.” 

John and Greg thought that it was a good idea. Reluctantly, Sherlock agreed. Greg arranged to meet with some officers in Blackpool on Saturday morning. Sherlock booked to travel to Blackpool on Friday afternoon and John, Cathy and Greg booked to travel on Friday night after school finished for the day. They all booked into the same hotel, but gave no indication that they were connected. Sherlock booked in using Mycroft’s name and address. John, Cathy and Greg used their own names and 221b Baker St as their address.

On Thursday, Greg paid a visit to Sebastian Moran’s home address. There was no answer when he knocked, so he left a note, asking Moran to contact him, but advising that he, Greg, would be out of town over the weekend. When Moran rang, Greg explained that someone had complained that Moran had been seen damaging cars parked near his house. Yes, it seemed ridiculous, but he, Greg, was obliged to check out any such complaint. Greg said that he was going to Blackpool for the weekend with friends, could he make a time to see Moran on Monday?

Sally was rostered to work on Saturday. At 9.30, after a good night’s sleep and a filling breakfast. John rang the station and asked to speak to her. 

“Sally, hi, John Watson. I’m in Blackpool for the weekend, and wondered if I could see you while I’m here. I’m staying at a hotel in St Chad’s Road, just near the promenade. Could I meet you out the front in say 30 minutes?” 

“Can you make it 45 minutes? I could make it by then.” 

“OK, see you at 10.15” 

At 10.16 precisely, Sally Donovan approached John Watson as he waited on the footpath. 

“Let’s walk down towards the promenade. Even in this weather, I like it there, we can watch the weather as we talk.” 

As they reached the promenade, they were walking towards a bench seat when John abruptly turned to Sally and said 

“Why Sally, why did you agree to do that to Greg?” 

“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t ... Sherlock Holmes was a psychopath, he deserved what happened to him, you shouldn’t believe whatever he said on that tape. He got off on murder you know.” 

“No Sally, he didn’t ‘get off’ on murder, he got off on solving murder, he got off on catching criminals, he got off on saving the lives of others. He wasn’t a psychopath, if he had been he would never have considered sacrificing his own life for mine or Greg’s or Mrs Hudson’s. You were wrong Sally, so very wrong!” 

As Sally opened her mouth to reply, maybe to argue, she suddenly pitched forward, blood and bone and bits of brain sprayed all over John as he firstly moved back and then forward to try and help. It took only a moment to see that Sally was beyond all help. But where, where had the bullet, presumably a bullet, come from? He looked around hopelessly. 

In a couple of panic stricken minutes, as he looked down St Chad’s Road, he saw two familiar figures; Greg and Sherlock were wrestling a stocky, very muscular man down the hotel steps onto the street. Police were converging on the area and Greg and the man were entering a police car. 

Suddenly, as he walked, then jogged towards the hotel, Cathy came rushing down the steps and running towards him. Sherlock walked more slowly behind her. By the time Sherlock reached John, he and Cathy had finished embracing in relief. Sherlock joined them, saying nothing about the hug he had witnessed, but instead started to talk about how Moran, for it was him that had shot Sally and had just been arrested, had followed their lead to Blackpool, and had even stayed in the same hotel. He had taken aim from an upper window, just moments before Greg and Sherlock had burst in to grapple him to the ground and arrest him. 

Within moments and ambulance arrived but nothing could be done for Sally. They placed her body in the ambulance and departed for the local morgue.

“Now” said Sherlock, “is anyone hungry, I’m starving. I think it’s time to work out how to engineer my return from the dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My timeline is based on the approximately 18 month gap between the start of filming for series 2 and 3 of BBC Sherlock. Therefore, Sherlock 'died' in June 2011, John and Cathy met in November 2011 and started dating in December 2011. They got engaged in April 2012 and Mrs Hudson died in May 2012, Sherlock returned from the dead in December 2012.
> 
> I will be publishing an epilogue in the next few days.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things which really do need to be sorted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only my second fan fic. Having completed a 221 word fic, I figured that a multi-chapter work couldn't be much more difficult. I envisaged about 10 chapters and a few thousand words of fluff. By the fourth chapter, my characters were insisting that I address the issue of bullying and add some crime.
> 
> I don't imagine that life will ever be smooth at 221 Baker St, but I don't think they could ever be parted.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

Three weeks later, Sherlock was still not officially alive, but that didn’t stop John and Cathy from celebrating his return. Much to Sherlock’s chagrin, Cathy’s parents were coming from Torquay to stay in what they all thought of as Mrs Hudson’s room for Christmas. 

On Christmas Day itself, Peter, Caroline and Hannah, Mike and Emma, Harry (but not Liz, they had broken up mid year) and Mycroft were all invited to lunch. It was a far more cheerful group than had gathered for that party just over a year earlier. Peter and Caroline were thrilled to announce that their second child was due in June. Harry announced that she had decided to go into rehab later in the week. Maybe this time it would work. She was at least prepared to admit that drink was ruining her life and relationships.

Cathy and John confirmed that they would be getting married on the 27th July, and Cathy asked Emma to be one of her bridesmaids. She had already asked her school friend Grace and work colleague Maria. John had already asked Greg and Mike Stamford to be groomsmen, and told Sherlock that he was the only possible choice to be best man. John had decided that he wouldn’t kill or even harm Mycroft. He had realised that the brothers were far closer than they wanted anyone to realise. Their supposed animosity had worked in Sherlock’s favour during his absence; no-one had even suspected that Mycroft was helping him. And he was prepared to forgive a lot of the man who had brought him and Cathy together!

Sherlock had, somewhat reluctantly, kissed or been kissed by all of the women present, and had accepted a hug from Cathy, but whispered urgently that he hoped he wouldn’t be expected to do this ever again. Cathy felt that they were in a state of armed neutrality. He tolerated her, but certainly wasn’t happy about her presence.

After celebrating Christmas as an extended family, they were pleased to have a very quiet New Years Eve. John and Cathy were asleep by 11.30, Sherlock had taken up his favourite position on the couch, and was still there when his housemates emerged in the morning. He may have moved, but they didn’t think so.

The following day, John was due to return to work, but Cathy still had a few days before school was due to resume. They woke up wrapped in each other and slowly kissed and hugged one another awake. They were both thinking of staying in bed for a bit longer when they heard their friend call out 

“John” 

“not now Sherlock” 

“John” 

“Later, give me a few minutes” 

“But John” and the door burst open. 

“Sherlock, will you PLEASE get out. Now. I’ll be out soon.” 

Sherlock looked up and realised what he was seeing, took in naked bodies on the bed, limbs entwined. Flustered, he stepped backwards, stepped out of the room and within seconds they heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and the slam of the front door. 

“I’d better go after him.” 

“No John, you had better stay here and finish what you started. And then you have a shower and get ready for work while I go look for him. He and I have to sort things out, and it might as well be today.”

So, while John showered, Cathy pulled on her workout clothes and ran down the stairs, phone in hand. Just inside the door, she sent a text message, then went to open the door. ‘Sherlock, where are you? We need to speak CG’ Within a second, she heard a phone outside the door, pulled it open and nearly stepped into the man sitting on the front door step. She immediately sat down and put her hand on Sherlock’s back. 

“Sherlock, I need you to come upstairs with me, we need to sort things out today. John is making our breakfast, and once he leaves, I want to talk to you.” 

“Why? I’ll be gone in an hour or so. I just have to find somewhere to go.” 

“No, you don’t. We want you to stay. We just need to set a few ground rules”. Reluctantly, Sherlock rose and went up the stairs, neither looking at, nor touching Cathy. 

“You found him then?” 

“Obviously she found me John. I wasn’t far away.” 

John passed the cups of tea and put a plate of toast on the table. “Now I have to go to work, you guys have a fun day. Play nice” A kiss for Cathy, an arm around Sherlock’s shoulder, and John left. “I’ll be back around 4pm”

Sherlock looked down. Cathy sat in front of him and addressed him directly. 

“Sherlock, will you look at me please”. 

He tentatively raised his eyes, “I thought I had already seen enough of you today.” 

“Very funny, Sherlock. I know you didn’t mean to, but we have to work out how to avoid it happening again. I think the simplest way is for us to all follow one simple rule –if a bedroom, or bathroom, door is closed, knock. Unless someone says to come in, the door stays closed. How does that sound. If a door is open, it’s alright for any of us to go in.” 

“I think it would be far easier if I just moved out” 

“It might be easier, but since when did any of us ever opt for the easy option. We have two things in common, we both love John and John loves us. We CAN work this out.” 

“I’ve never, with John, not touched, never...”

"I didn’t say sex, I didn’t say ‘in love’, I said we both love John, and John loves us. Do you disagree?” 

“No, but ...” 

“No buts, we need to work it out.”

“Do you mind if we go downstairs to your flat. I want to discuss a couple of things. It might be easier if I can show you too.” They rose and went down the stairs to the basement. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Of course, why ask?” 

“Because it is your flat. If I want to go into your flat, I ask. Now, the bedroom isn’t big, but from what John tells me, that’s probably OK, because you don’t spend much time in bed. We could get some sitting room furniture and a table and some chairs for over near the windows. They aren’t big, but it is the only natural light in here, and the table will need as much light as possible. It could be your office, your clients could come here. The builders will be back next week, we will get them to put in a separate entrance to the laundry so we don’t need to go into your part of the house to do our washing. How does that sound?” 

“But this is your playroom for your future children.” 

“It was going to be, but I think it would be better to have it upstairs near our bedrooms. You won’t have a kitchen here, so you will have to eat with us, but that’s good, because it means we get to see you every day. Because, as you know, if you don’t eat anything, John will go crazy, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“Do you mean that you will be happy to have me live here, even after this morning?” 

“Of course, you’re John’s best friend. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I like you, and I don’t want you to leave us again. And one day, I want my children to grow up knowing that their Uncle Sherlock is their father’s AND mother’s best friend. The best way for that to happen is for you to stay here and get to know them.” 

“Uncle Sherlock?” 

“Of course. I am probably not going to name my children after you, but I want you to be part of their lives from the very day they are born. If you live here, when you and John have to go on cases it will be so much easier than if you have to go somewhere to collect him. I just need notes, text messages, anything so I know where you have gone and whether I need to cook dinner for you. I’d also like him there when our children are born, and I’d definitely like him there, and only him, when they are conceived. Apart from that, John needs the excitement, I need John, so do you. I think this might work out very well.” 

“Very well indeed Miss Greenwood. Cathy. You are so much like John. An idiot, like the rest of the world, but nowhere as stupid as most. I think you’re right, this might work out very well indeed." He paused, "Uncle Sherlock!”


End file.
